Utterly Ramblacious and Other Gilmorish R Words
by pOnDeReSqUe
Summary: Luke, will you marry me? A lot of ranting in general. LL...how will Luke and Lorelai react? To many things. Sixth chapter up...Man, those Gilmores have good lungs. An answer to the eternal question. Some angst, some fluff. You know you wanna. READ!REVIEW!
1. Ranting, Silence, and then more Ranting

**A/N: Ok...this would be my very first Gilmore Girls fanfic. Although it really has been coming for a very long time, as i have been completely obsessed with the show since day one. I am really too tired right now to rant and ramble. Just read...enjoy...be nice if you review. PLEASE review. you will make a lonely girl very very happy. Hope i got the characters right, i think i did lorelai ok but not so sure about luke (dirty...?). tell me! constructive criticism! and tell me if i should continue, i can stop here or make lots more. whatever makes you happy. err...OH YES. Disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of its wonderful, awesome witty characters. if i did i would own a yacht somewhere and a mansion and i would know lauren graham and i wouldnot be going to high school. i would be retired already. etc.**

**And so it begins...**

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"Luke, will you marry me?"

There was only the slightest pause then, just the slightest blimp of time before the words reached Luke's ears and registered themselves in his mind- found a meaning, then significance- then he could react.

"_What?_"

Lorelai just looked at him. He looked back. Both had expressions they'd seldom seen on each other. On Lorelai, a smile- reassured, middling between a sort of rapture and being matter-of-fact. She was sure. This was what she wanted. The last time Luke had seen that expression, he had wowed her with confidence. _I'm all in_. Luke just looked shocked, and serious…nervous? Maybe. Their conversation had taken quite a turn.

"Lorelai…"

"Luke." Still, with the smile. It was hard for him to resist the smile.

"You're angry, you're upset, you're tired…you…probably need coffee. I'm gonna get you some coffee." He turned away from her and those eyes. He refused to go down with the power of the eyes.

Lorelai didn't say anything while he went into the kitchen. This was fine. She could wait.

There were a series of crashes from the storeroom.

"DAMN IT, CEASAR!"

"Er…Luke?"

"It's fine…," he growled. "Just remind me never to let Caesar stock the stupid storeroom again."

"I'll get right on it."

He grunted in return. So, after all these months of appropriately long conversations, the Amazing Monosyllabic Man was going to make a comeback?

A minute passed. Two minutes.

"Luke…you're not dead, are you? 'Cause if you are or planning to be in the next few minutes, tell me. Please. I'm wearing new shoes. Don't know why I picked this particular _day_ to wear these shoes…well, actually, I do, they match my outfit perfectly and it's not like I knew what was going to be happening today. On both counts. That is- Rory. And you. Not that there is a _thing_ happening between you and me- or is it I? I hate stupid grammar. It's stupid. I mean, come on, people, what's the freaking point…But, um, they're already tainted with the whole parents-stabbing-me-in-my-back thing and the whole Rory-being-a-complete-idiot thing and frankly I don't want these particular shoes to also be associated with your death also. They are really, really great shoes. I'm sure you haven't noticed them yet but they look really fabulous on me. Woah, ok, Lorelai, you shouldn't have that big of an ego. But…" She paused. She just heard Luke walking around the kitchen. The gurgle of the coffee maker.

"Luke…? I'm sorry for that self-centered rant. I always do this, I just start talking and manage to make everything about me and my shoes or my hair when I just want to make a point about someone else- and by someone else I mean you. Obviously, I mean, you're the one I'm talking to and it's not like anyone else would be here for me this late on a Friday night just listening to me ramble about my problems, like I always do- except Rory, maybe, but things are _clearly_ not looking that great with us now…and my god, I never listen, do I? I always make you listen to me whether you want to hear about my stupid problems or not. And you listen. You _always_ listen. You make sacrifices and you make yourself look like an idiot and you let my parents walk all over you- and stupid me, I just sit in this diner and you pour me the best coffee in the world and what do I do? I mock you, and make you wear clothes you don't want to wear and…I just don't deserve you. I _want_ to deserve you so, so much and I give the appearance, maybe, of deserving you, but I don't. I'm…selfish. And stupid. Have I mentioned that I'm stupid and you're wonderful? I don't think I've said that before. You're wonderful. Right now, you're the most wonderful person in the world to me. It's been…what? Seven years? More? And I've never told you how freaking wonderful you are." At this point she was almost in tears. But she laughed to herself.

"Ok, I promise, this is the last of the uber-rant. Luke? I'm sorry. For…just attacking you with that question. I just had this major realization just then that you, above every one else in this town or in my life- you were there for me. I don't deserve you being there for me. God, this is getting really repetitive. And redundant. And repetitive…" She chuckled nervously. "But I guess it doesn't really matter whether I asked it or not 'cause I clearly do not deserve it. You. The whole package. Yeah, it's what I want, it's what I've always wanted but I don't deserve it. I…I understand if you just want me to leave. I'm just feeling like an idiot right now…kind of tipsy, kind of like I've just performed a bar dance in front of my parents, kind of like I want to throw up. I promise not to do it here, though. Throw up, I mean…Luke?" She stopped breathing as he emerged with a mug in his hand. She was too afraid to look into his eyes.

He walked up to Lorelai and handed her a mug of just-right just-hot-enough coffee. The aroma and steam floated between them like a mirage.

"Lorelai, I have something to tell you," he said, softly and slowly.

"What…" she could barely get the word out. She was literally breathless- overcome with emotion- anger at herself (and the entire universe- Rory, her parents) and overwhelming love for Luke.

"I am in love with you." Those words seemed unnatural coming from Luke.

The tables had turned very, very quickly. She looked scared, helpless. Like the day he broke up with her. He looked sure of himself.

"Lorelai, you're the one I don't deserve. You're strong, you're an amazing mother. I know Rory's being a complete fool right now but it just isn't your fault. You have always been there for me. Through Rachel, Jess, marrying Nicole-" they both winced- "Which I'll admit now was the most stupid thing I've ever done. Other than not taking my chances with you sooner. Who knew a self-help book could change my life so much…" He laughed.

"Self-help book?" she mocked weakly.

"I'll tell you about it some other time. Maybe our first anniversary…"


	2. Lorelai in a Bush not George

**A/N: yeah, second chapter- had to edit it! there was a much longer A/N on the first one, but i lost it. damn. so, basically: KUDOS! to all you who reviewed. tell me if you like this. i hope you do, i spent a LOT of time writing it this week...i honestly dont have as much confidence in it as i did the first chappie but you guys (err...like, 3 people) wanted a second chapter. so, ill keep writing as long as the reviews/ enthusiasm continues.**

**I'm sending your kudos via express mail as i speak!**

**Disclaimer: i do not own Gilmore Girls or any characters affiliated with it.**

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"What kind of flowers?" an extremely excited Sookie began to prattle.

"Sookie…" An annoyed smile was still erected around her lips. She was humoring her friend. _Shut up, Sookie, shut up shut up shut up. I don't need this right now. Please._

"Ooh, roses. You both seem like rose-types of people don't you? But they're so expensive. But pretty. And we're definitely not going fake. Only cheapos have fake flowers, and you got to stay real for weddings... bar mitzvahs, maybe, I would understand if the family works at a toothpaste factory, like in Willy Wonka although obviously they're not Jewish… that was just a bad example… There's got to be beauty. Real beauty. Fake flowers does not equal real beauty. They're cheaper when they're seeds, so Jackson could probably-"

"Sookie." A grimace now.

"- grow his own. I hope there's enough time. How long does it take to grow roses? And, oh, boy! You're having it at the inn, right? Obviously. I mean-" (enthusiastic chuckle) "-what kind of inn-owner has a wedding that's not at the inn she owns? Or he owns? Plus the Dragonfly's perfect…Ooh, we should probably start off with something light, elegant, romantic- like quiche? Maybe that's too vegan-esque for you, god knows you'll wrangle something deep-fried into the menu. And espresso-bean-covered. If we wanted to go cutesy-easy-barbecue-y we could play up the fact that Luke owns a diner and you are addicted to coffee but that's not exactly classy…and you are classy. But also cutesy. Cutesy, classy. Cutesy, cutesy, classy. Cutesy? Classy? Cu-"

Lorelai twirled around, eyes flashing. "Sookie! I realize you are trying to out-annoy Michel in the Guinness Book of World Record's coveted 'Most Obnoxious Inn-worker to Ever Speak More Than a Harry Potter Book's Worth of Words Without Making Said Owner of Inn Stick Her Ears into Electrical Sockets' award, and I must say you have got the judges excited and sending your name to the presses as of this moment, but it is _6:30 in the morning_. You have breakfast to cook for about one hundred people who are likely to be up in about half an hour if the early-morning historical tour of Stars Hollow is anything like the pamphlets we sent out last night promised, and they _will_ be hungry," Lorelai said, very, very quickly, in one breath, looking extremely disgruntled. She felt bad immediately after she'd said it- but she did feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction in watching Sookie's face fall throughout the speech. And then guilty, remembering her "I am selfish" speech from the other night. _I am MEAN! Need coffee. Now._

"Woah, you're crabby," Sookie said, a little disappointed that Lorelai didn't exactly share in her enthusiasm.

"Yeah, well, having your best friend literally jump on you at four in the morning in an effort to wake you up for an 'Inn emergency' when there is, in fact, no 'Inn emergency' can do that to you," she said, and began walking toward the reception desk. Seeing no annoying, cynical French man present and working, she sighed. "God, where is he? Not like God would _know_. Stupid Michel, the one time you actually need him to be here, he isn't," she added under her breath. Sookie ignored her instructions to start cooking and followed her instead, trying to keep up with her pace.

"But, honey, you're getting _married_. To Luke. Luke is a great guy. He loves you. He said so himself. And apparently you love _him_- or at least that's what proposing to him implies. You should be happy." Lorelai sighed.

"We're not _officially _getting married. I mean, I asked him, I rambled about my shoes, he told me he loved me, we embraced briefly, I left. There was no…conclusion. He wasn't clear on the 'yes or no' part. It may have been implied but- I didn't ask. Didn't want to ruin the moment. Very romance novel, but not exactly straightforward. Was saying he loved me like saying yes? Was…he just trying to stop me talking? I wouldn't be surprised, honestly, if that was it. It's definitely a more novel approach than what's been done in the past to get me to shut up- subtle. Definitely a favorite over what my mother does." She paused in the entranceway to inspect the Welcome mat. She started to shake it out.

"And what does your mother do?"

"Oh, it's simple. She just ignores me, and if that doesn't work, she touches upon her favorite 'let's be cruel to Lorelai' topics- the fact I got pregnant at sixteen, the state of my hair at the moment…The fact I never got to use my super-expensive coming-out dress _because_ I got pregnant at sixteen…" She got back to the Reception area and paced around the table, walking faster, getting louder. "Jeez, Michel, you bother to call Sookie at three thirty in the morning because you think the freaking inn is being robbed- when it isn't, I might add- but you don't bother to stick around to tell us what happened? Peachy. Really, that's just fabulous. A beautiful cherry on top of a really creamy, yummy week."

Compulsively, she began to move things on the reception desk. The _Dragonfly_ brochures, which were at least half a degree away from being completely parallel to the _Welcome to Stars Hollow!_ (the exclamation points were Taylor's doing) brochures, were immediately restacked and repositioned. The swivel chair was pushed in. When she actually began to dust the desk with her (new) coat sleeve, Sookie pulled her away. "Honey, what's wrong?" Lorelai fought against the relatively short Sookie as if trying to break away from her surprisingly George-of-the-Jungle-like grip.

"You mean other than the fact our janitorial staff doesn't know how to dust? What, exactly, is so hard about it? You take the fuzzy duster thing, you move your arm around, and voila. Of course, if you want to get really into it, you can spray Lysol on whatever your dusting and waste, what? Like, a half-calorie just pushing down on the spray-nozzle-majigger and oh, maybe another third of a calorie releasing the pressure. And- look!- the desk is all streaky! I hate it when people dust and it gets all streaky!"

"Lorelai, come. Sit." Sookie grabbed her arm and, despite a violently protesting Lorelai, walked her over to the couch in the lobby. "I'm not going to let you go. If necessary I'll get Juan over here and I think you've already seen the size of his biceps. Now. Tell me what is wrong. 'Cause frankly you've been acting like a bitch since well, actually, the past two days. I don't understand why you're not _happy_. You've just proposed to someone you loved and he most definitely did not say no." Sookie looked worriedly at her face, which looked sad and mad at the same time. "You look really smad. I'm usually the one who looks smad. Is it Luke? Did something else happen?"

Lorelai shook her head.

"Then Emily."

No response.

"And Richard?"

No response.

"Lorelai…" she paused a moment, then sighed. "Tell me when you're ready, then. I mean, you wake up this morning at four- yes, because I jumped on you but you know how convincing Michel sounds on the phone, especially when he's really freaked out- and you've got this strange look on your face. Finally, after using my very best interrogation skills you tell me you proposed to Luke last night and I just get really caught up in that- and, oh god, blab about flowers and quiche for about an hour- while you look more and more annoyed- and I- just don't know."

Lorelai's facial expression softened slightly.

"I'm sorry for comparing your annoying-ness with Michel. You're not annoying, Sookie. Just enthusiastic. And loving. And nutty. It's why we love you."

"Yes, I know." She smiled.

"Do you think- do you mind- if I go out for a few hours? There's something I really need to do."

"It's fine. I've got everything under control. Now, I really need to start breakfast." Sookie stood up.

"Finally, a point hits home…" Lorelai stood up too and smiled weakly.

_What am I doing here?_ She asked herself. The effort to get any real answer out of herself was futile. All she knew was that she should be happy right now, and she wasn't, and Rory had something to do with it. Had a lot to do with it. She needed closure or just- _something_. An answer or reasonable explanation to the horrible mess Rory had just pulled her in to. She hadn't actually spoken to Rory since their fight in Weston's and hadn't actually seen her since those seconds at about seven last night. Through the windows of her new "home." She could remember thinking: twenty years of almost completely perfect angelic behavior, and now this. It was like all those missed chances of doing idiotic things actually built up somewhere and felt the need to rear their ugly heads at the most pivotal points in Rory's life. Almost exactly a year ago when- (wince)- she slept with Dean. And now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And Lorelai knew she had nothing to do with it. It was all Rory.

Which made it harder, in a way, to face- that her perfect, smart, beautiful daughter was gullible and naïve enough to believe so absolutely in what an almost stranger had told her. Apparently, twenty years of raising Rory- being her best friend- making countless sacrifices on her behalf, just so she could have this future- not to mention actually conceiving/ giving birth to her didn't make her opinion valid- but being the father of her snob boyfriend and the sleazy, ass-hole boss of about half the newspapers in the country suddenly gave him the authority to tell her what to do. Lorelai had always been her role model- the person she came to for advice. The one person she seeked true approval from. They had been strongly bonded over time. Their relationship was role-defying. It was what made life worth it for Lorelai. It had been taken away, now. What had made her daughter change? Rory's eyes, once at least partially sure of themselves, were hopeless. They said to the world, _I am useless because someone told me I was_. It was in her smile, her voice, the way she walked and acted- the strength her mother gave her now extinguished.

Confused, depressed, and ultimately pissed off, Lorelai sat in her parked Jeep in her mother's driveway for nearly half an hour. She let herself remain numb for the first five minutes, keeping both eyes opened at slits so she could see if Emily ever happened in the kitchen and peered out the window. Unlikely. She saw the portly new maid open the front door for a time to sweep something out, but she didn't notice the Jeep. She watched as two crows trotted up and down the walkway, converging briefly, then flying up again. She thought of Chilton- even before then. Kindergarten. Preschool. She'd always wanted one thing- it had never, ever changed. To be a journalist. She'd wanted to travel the world. She'd always known. Always had that "it's exhilarating and hard but I love it" face when she went to school- even Yale. Her whole life had been centered around one goal. How did you go from that to this in one day? Because of one sentence? How can a mean phrase make you dump your morals, your integrity- your mother and your best friend in the whole world. Dreaming of writing in Europe reporting some peace scandal in one of the best schools in the world to eating frosted flakes in your pajamas in your grandparent's pool house. It was mid-morning at this point, and she really wished she'd come at night. Her mother, no doubt, would probably have some kind of errand or D.A.R. meeting to go to at some point and her mother was not really a person she wanted to see right now. But it was too late to go back. She was emotionally invested in this, now. Her heart was pulling her in two directions- sympathy and anger.

She gulped half a cup of cold coffee in one breath, threw the empty plastic cup on the seat next to her, and closed her eyes. And sighed. One last sigh before takeoff. It was too late to back out now…she needed help with this. She thought of Luke and smiled- _you can convince anyone to do anything._

_Come on, now, you can do this. Don't go down to the power of her eyes. Ignore the helpless pleading looks. It was you who taught her that trick anyway- you can do this_.

She opened the car door and walked quickly to the pool house's (window-doors? Door-windows?)- she'd always been a bit fuzzy at what they were called.

Peering in through them, she saw Rory still asleep in the bed they'd set up. The room was uncharacteristically messy. There were days of the week underwear on the floor- Thursday, Friday, and Saturday (well, at least they were the right days of the week-so, of all the life lessons she'd taught her daughter over her years, that was the one that stuck?) She made a mental note to share that with Rory- and then reminded herself this wasn't exactly a social visit.

"Um, Rory?" she called, tapping on the unnamed door-like devices (as the window-doors will now be called.)

"Rory? Men with guns are parked outside and I was just going up the driveway so I offered to, you know, do their dirty work- shoot you and take all of your belongings. They may even pay me but I think the pleasure I'll get out of killing you will compensate enough."

_Hmmm…maybe a bit too sadistic?_ Even now, especially now, a men-with-guns bit was uncalled for.

"Hey, Rory! Nice undies!"

_Better. Much better! Keep it light. Give her a chance to explain… Give her a chance to back out. Please, Rory, admit you've made a mistake…Please, I really need you to do this for me… God, this kid is a deep sleeper. Did I teach her that, too? Probably._

"Rory, damnit, open your freaking door device thingies!" Lorelai began knocking against the door-devices now, and finally Rory sleepily pushed the covers off of her, revealing the rest of her body in her pajamas with cakes on them (Lorelai could vaguely remember buying them for Rory's fifteenth birthday.) Rory looked to the side, rubbing her eyes, seeming not to notice her mother now jumping and waving her arms as if drowning. Through the glass, Lorelai watched as Rory smiled at something and laughed.

A suspicion rose like bread through her body because of a simple conclusion Lorelai made. Rory was laughing, and therefore- because she was not one of those people who laughed at random things because she just thought they were funny (Lorelai was the one to do that, not Rory) or a completely insane person who believed her duvet cover was cracking a joke- another person was there. It wasn't Lane- Lane didn't know yet. Not Paris, definitely not Paris. First of all- Paris was Paris. Second of all- Paris was Paris. Who could possibly know about the Pool house Drama?

It was not a mystery difficult to solve. Her suspicions were confirmed as a blonde head came out from the covers. _Oh, man. Oh, man oh man oh man oh man_. Lorelai immediately side-stepped out of sight, craving caffeine as she never had before. Luke's coffee. Sadly, the coffee gnome apparently wasn't happy with her that night and didn't show up at her whim. She didn't want them to see her, and, more importantly, she didn't want to see them. It would kill her. She needed to get away, but there was no escape. There was only one place where she could hide without being seen- a heavily manicured bush next to the gate in the yard. Grimacing, she ducked.

She grabbed her cell phone from her pant pocket, suddenly very happy she had a strange (or at least that's what Luke told her) mother-daughter protectiveness over it, and thus brought it everywhere with her. There was only one number she could call at this point. Sighing, she dialed "2" and listened to the speed-dial in her ear, so loud she was afraid Rory and _he_ would hear.

"Luke's." It was a familiar voice. So familiar.

"Oh, thank god. Luke," she said, hushed.

"_Lorelai_? Yeah, hang on, Cesar- yeah, just make the salad without the olives, okay? Explain it to him." She could hear muted noises on the other side of the phone. "Then tell Taylor to buy his own olives, damnit! We're out. Just deal with it!"

More muted noises. Silence. She looked at her watch while time passed. Ten seconds…twenty seconds…forty seconds…fifty seconds…fifty-five seconds…_Hmmm, is that a spider? I wonder if he meant yes. I really, really hope he meant yes. Ok, spider approaching. Going to flick it away, just flick it away…that's it…I can't believe this is happening, but I hope he means yes. But he did say something about our first anniversary? Oh, my god, I forgot about that. So…he almost definitely means yes… I can't face it if he means no…god, the irony is murdering me here…wait, what irony? I'll have to figure that out…there must be some kind of irony in this situation, just can't think…need coffee…need Luke…sounds corny but I do…and Rory…I think I need her back…god, what's this am I starting to cry? No, stop…you're stronger than this, her, Emily, Richard, you can face it and survive, you just need to calm down…_

"Lorelai?"

"Oh, my god, Luke, was someone reciting the Declaration of Independence or something equally long and important just then and you just had to listen while I was about to explain my crisis?"

"Well, Taylor and olives were involved so there still is no end to the length- it's the importance of his recital I'm still a bit fuzzy on."

"Oh, witty comeback."

"I'm not even going to reply to that."

There were ten seconds of silence.

"Um, Luke?"

"Lorelai…" he said. It was in a voice that sounded remarkably un-Luke-ish. Soft. Kind. Her heart had a spasm.

"I'm kind of…stuck. Outside of…"

"Yes, Lorelai?"

"I'm kind of…outside of Rory's new pool house- home- thing…? In a bush. There's…spiders. And I'm wearing new shoes." _Shut up, shut up, shut up Lorelai, about your shoes…!_ "Logan is there, and I didn't know what to do and she's wearing her cake pajamas, the ones I got her for her fifteenth birthday, the cute ones. And she's got day of the week underwear with happy faces. I just…didn't know what to do so here I am, in a bush." She laughed nervously.

Silence. Three seconds. She could hear Luke's breathing on the other end_. Why can't I just leave? Who cares if they see me? Why am I doing this?_ She felt extraordinarily stupid, opened her mouth, about to speak, explain, say sorry, but he spoke first.

"Cesar, can you handle the crowd for a sec? Ok. I'll be there." _Click_.

She brushed a leaf from her hair and told her heart to stop spasming.

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REVIEW! i'll give you love! maybe ill write an enthusiastic poem next time to get you to review next time, but now i just am too ADD/ caffeine high. 


	3. The Gilmores Get Growlllly

**A/N: OK! Third chapter. This one took me a really freakin long time. Better review it, punks! i love you guys who are reviewing...um, yeah. so, just keep in mind it starts off in rory's p.o.v. the night lorelai proposed- when she was looking in through the glass. alright? alright. i seriously love you if youre reading this. major kudos. MAJOR MAJOR KUDOS! kudos for all. kudos for everyone.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own gilmore girls. i do, however, give the wb lots of money- owning, as i do, all three seasons on dvd so far, the soundtrack, and a few gilmore girlsbooks (my guilty pleasure.)**

**IT BEGINS!...try to enjoy. and review.**

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Rory had never seen her mother's face like that. In the one momentary glimpse she'd ventured through the glass, so many words, motives unspoken so loudly passed through Lorelai's eyes to her daughter's that Rory had to look away. It had strangled her with its hopelessness. She couldn't face her mother's intense (more than intense; the emotion was tangled in her mouth, skin, bones, poise- and Rory could see it extend somewhere much deeper) hopelessness and utter disappointment just then, facing quite enough of her own. She'd looked away. It felt, almost, to her, another blow to her self-respect. So she couldn't face the consequences of her choices? Couldn't face that she'd essentially cut off communication, respect, and any pride between her mother, her best friend, her mentor, and herself? No, she couldn't face it. She couldn't even say, just then, why leaving Yale was worth cutting out basically her entire life. Her past, her present, her future- and all the relationships and endless love that she'd relied on in her time.

The world felt unbelievably cold just then to Rory Gilmore.

Folding the last pair of pants she'd packed and laying it down neatly in the last drawer, she finally chanced another glance outside. Lorelai was gone. She sighed and collapsed on the bed Emily had set up, and folded her hands on her stomach.

_So. What now?_

It was only a bit after seven but, not surprisingly, she was exhausted. Her body hadn't done much but her mind and emotions had taken quite a beating. A beating she'd administered to herself. Yup, it was all her.

She hadn't given her decision much thought. She hadn't made the usual pro/con list with her mother or even slept on it. There was one pro and one con that she could see clearly in her mind, though, but the pro tipped the scales. Con- everyone would be angry. Disappointed. Pissed. She'd be on her own until she decided what she wanted to do with her life. Pro- she needed to do this for herself. She was tired of trying to please everyone and doing the right thing and she was tired of studying her brains out for something that had recently gotten much farther away in her dreams. She didn't know how to explain it or get through to the people who'd been there while "being" Christane Amanpour and getting into the Ivy League had been her obsession and study every moment of her life- she had just changed. What had changed her? She wasn't ready to answer that question for herself just yet.

Distantly, she heard someone knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

The door opened soundlessly. "Rory, would you like something to eat?"

It was Emily.

"I think I'll just go to sleep, grandma. Busy day." Rory's voice sounded lifeless even to her. There was a pause as if Emily was deciding whether to comfort her or not- as if her disappointment was fighting what Rory would probably expect. Rory was glad she didn't approach her.

"Alright."

And the door closed shut again. Rory drifted off to sleep, thinking of her mother's face through the glass.

She awoke to the sound of her cell phone- the song "Milkshake." God. Lorelai must have set it without her permission again, probably yesterday morning, pre the Weston's chat. Now she'd have to change it again. What had it been the last time Lorelai'd changed it? Oh, yes- the Prince of Bel Air theme song.

Fumbling, she found it folded in the Thursday of her days of the week underwear. What the freak had it been doing in there?

"Hello?"

"Rory?"

"Logan."

"Yeah, um, I've been trying to get through to you for about two days now. You stood me up, Ace." He sounded unusually subdued.

_Crap_. "Oh, my god, Logan, our post-finals lunch! It was at a fancy restaurant, too! I'm such an idiot. Ugh, god, I just had a lot of things on my mind, and I really needed to tell my mother something, or I would've lost my nerve. Oh, I'm such a moronic- thing. I'm a thing. I'm a jerk and a thing. I'm so, so sorry," she added sincerely.

"You sound it."

"Well, I am. I really, really am. Look, can I make it up to you? You must be really hating me right now but we can have lunch tomorrow or dinner right now. On me. I'll go to the bank right now and I'll get some money and I'll get reservations wherever you want."

"I'd say yes, but the bank's not actually open right now- it closed about five hours ago. Can we just hang out tonight? I'm bummed that we didn't get our post-finals lunch in, but I'm not mad. I promise. Now, Ace, where can I pick you up?"

"I don't think I can right now. Tomorrow, yes, right now, no. I'm sorry, I'm at my grandparent's house right now and it's not your fault but I don't think you want to get in close range of them. They might conveniently forget you're not a practice target when they've got their rifles with them, if you know what I mean." She knew she'd have to tell Logan eventually, seeing as how they went to the same school and were bound to see each other at some point during the summer as they were, you know, pretty hot and heavy. She decided she'd just put it out there, nice and blunt. Though Logan was one person she really didn't want to think any worse of her.

"What's the matter? You're grandparents love me. Last time I saw them they were making reservations at Cape Cod for our wedding day and hiring seamstresses to sew our children's clothes."

"Logan…it's a really long story. Bloody and horrible, with me as Joan of Arc first shooting people's heads off in battle and then everyone else in the world lighting matches on me for committing heresy."

"Rory, what happened?" He sounded genuinely worried.

She hesitated a few seconds before telling him. God, this was hard.

"Logan…I'm not going back to Yale next year."

He laughed. "Yes, you are."

"No, Logan, I'm not. I gave it a lot of thought and…I'm not ready to continue putting myself through Yale using my grandparent's money when I'm not sure what I want to do with that degree of education yet."

"You want to be a journalist." _Yeah, I used to_.

"Not anymore."

There was silence.

"I hate him," Logan said quietly, but with ounces of venom in his voice.

"What?" Rory was surprised.

"I _hate_ him. He knew you'd do this. Rory, this has nothing to do with you, it has to do with him trying to get back at me for not being exactly like him in every way- for not wanting to do whatever my family 'feels is best.' It's his stupid, tyrannical way of saying 'take _that_ loser, now look who's going down with your ship. Wouldn't you just rather stay dry with us?' He has _no_ right…" Logan was silent and fuming for a few seconds while Rory geared up to fight.

"Logan, this isn't because of your father or what he said. It's because of me and it's my decision and I'm tired of everyone thinking it isn't and that I'm just so helpless I can't think on my own. I _can_ think on my own, it's how I function and right now it's why everyone east of California is pissed at me."

"I'm coming over," he replied simply.

"Logan…"

"I'm coming over," he repeated.

"Fine. I'm in the pool house. Don't let my grandfather shoot you, he's got good aim from golf." _Beep._

In the forty or so minutes she was waiting for him, she decided not to do anything. Usually if Logan were coming over she'd immediately sneak into the bathroom to touch up her hair or lip-gloss or outfit, but now it wasn't worth the energy. She just remained prone on her new bed, staring at the Thursday underwear still lying on the floor from when she'd retrieved her phone. Forty minutes- a long time to remain absolutely numb. It was nearly midnight when he came.

She saw him when she rolled over on her bed. He was in the exact same position Lorelai had been in when she'd stared at her daughter through the French doors, only his expression was very different. He was smiling slightly as he usually did, with his arms behind his back and a semi-cocky jaunt to his head so it looked like he could virtually charm the pants off of anyone. His eyes were the things that stood out, though, that night- they were filled with warmth and worry. _Mom's wrong about him- he does care; she just doesn't see what she doesn't want to see. She just sees he comes from money and runs away because that's what she did twenty years ago…and, wow, that is about the clearest, most worthy thought I've had in a long time._

She then became aware that she was wearing her pajamas with cakes on them and that she couldn't remember the last time she'd brushed her hair. Or teeth. She grabbed gum from on top of her new dresser and crammed a piece into her mouth, and then opened the glass doors.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

"Hey, yourself," she smiled weakly.

He leaned in for a kiss. She opened her mouth and pointed inside to indicate the gum. He raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, now that we've averted an embarrassing and possibly lethal incident involving your mouth, my mouth, and a stick of gum- quite skillfully, I might add- we've got to get to the point. Ace?"

"It's late."

"Not late for me." He walked behind her and grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back to the bed.

"No, not you, but for five eighths of this country, midnight is late. It certainly is late for me."

"I just drove half an hour to see you, Rory, and risked my life, or so you tell me. Now explain why you defended my father on the phone, because anyone would have to be out of their minds to do that to themselves." They were now sitting next to each other on the bed. With Logan staring at her from this close range with genuine kindness in his face, she found it hard not to let him sympathize with her.

"Umm, well, I'm not going back to Yale next year."

"I'm going to fight you about that later, and you know perfectly well I've never lost a fight. Now tell me why everyone east of California is pissed at you?"

"Ok, you know my mom…"

"The wonderful woman who gave birth to you and constantly bites my head off? I've heard of her."

"I told her yesterday afternoon. About Yale. She didn't take it too well."

"I can _kind_ of understand that."

"I mean, my whole life, I've wanted one thing, you know? To be a journalist, to have this big, adventurous, wonderful life- and she's wanted it just as much. She's always wanted me to have more than she did, to have a better life. She's supported me through…everything. Even when she hated what I was doing, she supported me. She's more than my mother, she's my best friend…she had me when she was sixteen, did you know that?" Rory was finding it hard not to talk now. She'd only had her grandfather's consolation that day, and even then it was just he not knowing what to do in the midst of Rory's baby blues. God, she was getting tired of being disappointing. Logan had his arm around her and was rubbing her shoulder with his hand.

"Yeah, I knew that."

"She hates my grandparents and they attack her, but she sacrificed her pride so I could go to Chilton. Which I was absolutely stupid about at first, wanting to give it all up for this guy- Dean, actually…And she's rooted for me every step of my life, and been there for me no matter what…That look on her face when I told her. It was horrible. I wish this thing with her would clear up but I'm not going to go back to Yale until I've found out what I want to do. So she's not letting me live with her…my only option were the two people who'd take me in, yeah, but they'd make mom want to kill me even more. But, oh, her face…"

"Rory?"

"I didn't think I could ever cause her so much pain, but I can. I'm so _selfish_, but I can't help it if I'm confused now, and…I really wish they gave out pills for this kind of thing. I just want to fall asleep until it's all over."

Logan removed his arm from Rory's side suddenly, surprising her, and stood up to speak to her.

"I'm sorry, Ace, but that's life. Falling _asleep_ is not the point. You have to talk to her. You have to go back to Yale because you're grandparents don't care if all you do is wander, at least you'll be doing _something_. They have plenty of money, Rory. You're smart and you don't deserve to be here wallowing in what you should have done. And, as much as you fight against it, it _is_ my father's fault we're here having this conversation. Don't give up on your life because of what scum like him says. He shouldn't have any authority in your life, Rory."

She opened her mouth to argue.

"No. It's too late. Go to sleep."

She closed her eyes. She _was_ tired. She could argue better tomorrow. But now, she was exhausted, and drained, and still had Lorelai's face emblazoned in her head.

"Tomorrow, I want to know why people are suddenly trying to murder me. But for now I'll amuse myself by finding the rest of this _most_ hilarious underwear."

Rory gave her boyfriend a strained smile, too tired to be embarrassed, while Logan pulled out Friday and Saturday from her top drawer and laughed.

She slipped underneath the covers and fell asleep as Logan crawled in with her, rubbing her back.

* * *

"Come on, Luke, hurry your cute little butt up…" Lorelai whispered to the bush in front of her, almost eleven hours after Rory had drifted off to sleep with Logan. She was crabby and her hair was being ruined, and possibly her shoes. Her darling, really expensive shoes. It suddenly occurred to her she had a real fetish for cute inanimate objects- her entire collection of shoes, her cell phone, her toaster, Luke's tool box, Bert (DIRTY!), all of the useless alarm clocks she'd bought over the years- the one that purred, the one that woke you up with animal noises…and even more than loving them and giving them personalities, she named them, talked to them, and had mini-fights with them. _To the untrained eye, I am a homeless bag lady who talks to her shoes._ She had to really appreciate Luke, putting up with all her cutesy crap. And all of her other crap, too- her knack for rambling about nothing for hours, the crabby way she got when she hadn't had coffee for half a day. She was a woman with a lot of crap.

And on that note, Lorelai started to realize she really needed to pee. She glanced at her phone- it had been forty minutes. Forty minutes and she'd already used most of her cell phone battery playing Extreme Bowling 2. The Inn probably needed her. Sookie was probably freaking out by now. But they knew her cell number, didn't they? They all did. If they really needed her, they'd call.

She was being extremely stubborn, she knew. Wasn't the point of coming here to talk to Rory? So why didn't she just freaking talk to Rory? _Because he is here_, the annoying, but true, voice inside her head replied. The boy who had changed Rory so much- showed Rory the rich, snobby way to life far away from Lorelai's boundaries. And Rory seemed to like that form of life. The same form of life Lorelai had been running away from since age three, and pulling Rory away with her.

So what did she expect Luke to do?

_Now that's a good question…what do I expect Luke to do? I hope this isn't like the "Stella" incident where he actually thinks "come help me find Rory's chick" is code for "come over, I want to sleep with you." "Luke, my daughter's life is being ruined and I'm witnessing its destruction while stuck in a bush outside of my parent's- who I currently hate, by the way- pool house." Does that say, "I'm not wearing underwear" to you, Lorelai Gilmore?_

_Not exactly._

"Lorelai!" Lorelai turned her head quickly and saw Luke with his hands cupped around his mouth on the other side of the French doors (in her reveries, she'd remembered the name for the door devices.)

She put a finger on her mouth to signal silence. She felt an overwhelming sense of calm now that Luke was here. He was the only one who could do that to her.

"They're in there," she mouthed, and pointed to the pool house.

"I know, I saw them," he mouthed back. "What are we supposed to do?"

She shrugged, and he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. Lorelai watched, curious, as he began to write. He then crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it to her.

_Maybe we should just go in and talk to them. I don't see any other way around this._

Oh, Luke, always the sensible one. And he had really nice writing…masculine. Flutter.

She mouthed, "_Pen!"_ and soon that came flying over, too.

She hesitated with the pen positioned above the paper, but she knew what to write. What she wanted to know.

_Luke, hate to go off subject, but I really need to know whether or not you said yes. Last night. Remember? Or was I dreaming?_

She tossed it back with the pen. And didn't breathe for a full twenty seconds as Luke took what she wrote in, ignoring the butterflies having a Rave in her stomach.

_I didn't answer yet._

Ok…

_Why not?_

Toss.

_Let's just focus on the matter at hand, okay?_

Toss.

_Fine. But this subject is going to come back whether you want it to or not._

Toss.

_We're running out of paper!_

Frustrated toss.

_Ok…what to do…how about a diversion?_

Meek toss.

_Lorelai, it's very hard to create a diversion when the only material you have is a bush._

Energetic toss.

_I'm stumped._

Toss.

_How about following the plan of action I advised you to do before we got way off topic?_

Toss.

_It's too sensible for me. I'm a rebel._

Toss.

_You're being really stupid._

Toss.

_I know I am._

Toss.

_Ok, this is officially a threat- if you're not going in there with me within a minute, I'm going in there alone._

Liberal toss.

_Please don't, Luke._ She was beginning to panic now. Luke did not look like he was kidding. Toss.

_If you intended to just throw a piece of paper back and forth for an hour with me, then why did you make it sound like you really needed me on the phone?_

Toss.

_I _do_ need you right now._

Toss.

_Then let's do something._

Toss.

She was barely done reading the short sentence before Luke gave her a swift, determined look (swoon), adjusted his baseball cap, and stepped in front of the glass French doors. And knocked lightly. Lorelai turned bright red (not a common occurrence) when Rory opened the doors and stepped out in her pajamas, looking shocked and confused and tired. When she saw her mother sitting stubbornly behind the bush she looked even more shocked and confused, and less tired.

"Mom!"

"Hello, Rory," she replied coolly, refusing to look at her daughter.

"And Luke…"

"Yep." Luke looked stern. Lorelai had to admire how fatherly he was being to Rory right now even while she (Lorelai) was acting like a spoiled four-year-old.

"What are you doing here?"

Luke looked at Lorelai, and, seeing she wasn't going to answer (and was still behind the bush), replied himself.

"We want to know why you're throwing your life away." He crossed his arms and looked at her.

Rory looked trapped. She immediately went into "deer in the headlights mode" and Lorelai saw Luke starting to crumble. "I'm not throwing my life away."

Lorelai stood up, feeling a sudden anger and motherly need whoosh over her.

"Then tell me _why_, Rory. Why are you just ditching everything we've worked for over the past twenty years? I was _there_ the entire time. It was what you wanted. I didn't push you toward this goal, you pushed yourself, and I supported you every step of the way. I bought you your first Harvard sweater when you were in kindergarten. You used it as a blankie. Twenty years of your hard work gone to dust. Twenty years of me thinking you'll have the amazing life you've always dreamed of- _I've_ always dreamed of- gone to dust. Why does what _he_ says matter all of a sudden? Don't you remember that time a few months ago when my opinion mattered to you? You've always come to me, Rory, and I've never failed you. This is a mistake you're making. A really freaking huge one. You're not only ruining your own life; you're making a mess of mine because like it or not I am your mother, and whether I like it or not I'll always love you. I can't just stand here waiting for you to make up your mind while you throw your life away- and yes, Rory, you _are_ throwing your life away. Don't give me crap like 'it's a college thing, mom, you wouldn't understand' because I do understand what you're doing here, Rory, you're afraid. You need to stop being afraid. You have to be _stronger_ than this. If it's not El Douche's fault we're in this really crappy position right now, as you claim, then whose is it?" Lorelai was almost in tears and didn't protest when Luke put a protective arm around her.

Rory just looked at her mother. Her gaze was blank, but Lorelai knew her brain was working overtime. Separating what she thought she wanted from what she truly did.

"Rory."

"Luke?"

"I've watched you grow up, and I'm probably more of a father than you've ever had. Your mom is right. You've worked way too long and way too hard to just give something this important. You are _going_ back to Yale next year. Don't turn into Jess, Rory, and stop caring about what's right and what's wrong. Yale is right for you. And my god, you're grandparents have enough stinking money already."

"But-" Rory looked furious now.

Lorelai stepped in. "This is officially not your decision. You're going to Yale next year, and you'll do it willfully or so help me god I'll pull a Mrs. Kim."

"I think I'm going to leave now…Logan?" She looked at him for help. She really needed to be alone now, to think, and find out what she wanted without any more people confusing her with their ideas of what she wanted.

"I have to say, I agree with them, Rory. I stick with what I said last night."

Luke and Lorelai looked at him viciously.

"…When I slept over, in a separate bed, of course."

Everyone stared at Rory viciously.

"Just stop _attacking_ me, everyone, I need some coffee and I need to be alone right now, okay? This _is_ my decision, whether you like it or not, and I'm not going back to Yale just because it's what all of you want me to do. I'm tired of doing that. I'm just…tired." She grabbed her keys and stomped over to her car in the driveway. In her cake pajamas.

The three stood, staring at each other. They'd just triple-teamed Rory. It wasn't in the same context Lorelai thought it would be in, or with the same team. But they'd made an impression. Lorelai could see Rory was already regretting her decision. Ok, she'd officially had closure. Now she could try to focus on Luke. And herself. She saw now that Rory needed space to make her decision. They'd done all they could.

Lorelai felt a need to point something out.

"I really…need to pee."

Logan wordlessly pointed her in the direction of the pool house bathroom.

* * *

**REVIEW!**

**you better review, as i just lost about ten calories just using my freaking pinkie.**


	4. Dear Emily and Richard

**A/N:There were alot of possible titles for this chapter i considered."Mr. Butch Buffethead 'the Trekkie' Danes" was one. "The chapter that proves that YES, you CAN use the phrase'Luke's Buns' more than fifty times within a three-paragraph period andNO it DOESNT get old" was a favorite...actually my favorite- sometimes i surprise myself with my genius- but much too long. sadly. another was, simply, "buns." the final chapter name is "Dear Emily and Richard." Boring, predictable i know. but a girl needs to be predictable sometimes, or else the unpredictabilitiness of her unpredictabilitiness wouldnt be unpredictable. yeah, i know i go deep and WOAH this is getting long.**

**AND another point i want to make...oh, my god. when i checked my email on tuesday and saw"you have twenty new messages" i was like, WTF, mate? and almost all of the reviews i got were positive. and nice. which just makes my life just that much happier. so continue, dizzles, please do. **

**anyway, i love itwhen people like give individual shout-outs to everyone who reviewed. and i'm sure you do, too. but, sadly, it is almost midnight right now and yours truly got up at six this morning to go to this really stupid SAT camp dizzle that is just so amazingly stupid that stupid does not even begin to describe it. soi am tired. and my dad will soon be in here telling me to get off the computer. this should serve as some nice inspiration/incentive. i am risking my life and limb to give you this chapter. now that is what i call commitment. oh, sorry, am i rambling now? whoops. funny how these things go. ANYWAY. ahem.with no further adieu (that is how you spell it, yes?) here is a really long chapter...hope you like it. be honest but take my feelings into consideration. i think its time for princess to say nite nite. oh wait...**

**DISCLAIMER: i do not own gilmore girls or any characters/ props/ buns affiliated with any of the- (wait, this is going to be grammatically incorrect, if it isnt already...ahhh im tired. im tired like you wouldnt believe.) but you get my point right?**

* * *

Lorelai Gilmore was confused. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and all of the other "ally"s you could be considered confused in.

On the painfully long drive home to Stars Hollow, she pondered, as deep as was possible, the "Luke situation." She was getting a lot of mixed messages. She wasn't good at analyzing stuff like this, Rory was. And she didn't have Rory right now. She tried to use her method, though. _Just try to remember, Lorelai, read between the lines…_

"_I'll tell you on our first anniversary_." That's what he'd said, wasn't it? Ok, that implied that Luke did, in fact, want to get married. It follows that if you are going to have a first anniversary of something, such as marriage, then you must first do that something. For example, if you wanted to celebrate the first anniversary of say, getting a rare strain of cancer (although that was neither a plausible nor sane example), you first had to attain the actual rare strain of cancer. You weren't just like, "Ah, seems like a nice day today. Air is fresh, sky is blue. How about let's run over to Party City, get a few hats and those annoying blower things and a nice round cake and start celebrating that day a year ago when I didn't get that rare strain of insert complicated medical term-ish disease here. " You just didn't. Unless you were insane, as previously mentioned. So…first anniversary clearly implied the first anniversary of marriage. Unless he meant the first anniversary of when they'd started dating? But that wasn't for a few months. And if they were getting married or even engaged, a _dating_ first anniversary was irrelevant. Marriage overshadowed it. Ok, that one was still unclear. But it definitely sort of vaguely pointed to "yes."

Second clue. _I am in love with you._ Also implying a "yes" to her proposal. If it hadn't been a dream, and she really hoped it wasn't, then this was how the evening had gone last night, _Reader's Digest_ version:

Luke: Rory's making a mistake. Let's find a blindfold. She's going to Yale. We're going to force her. I'm ranting. Watch me rant.

Lorelai: Marry me?

Luke: Seems like a good time to make some coffee. Gurgle. I hate Cesar.

Lorelai: Oh, look at my new shoes. They're pretty. I'm selfish. I'm rambling. I'm stupid. You're amazing. I hate grammar. I love my shoes. I feel tipsy. I'm stupid. Watch me ramble, watch me rant. Rant.

Luke: Here's your coffee.

Lorelai: Ok. Mmm.

Luke: I'm in love with you.

Lorelai: Choke.

But then again, it might have been just to shut her up. It wasn't a possibility she'd ruled out yet. It was never a possibility she ruled out. She knew some people would perform amazingly difficult trapeze tricks to avoid her rants sometimes. Actually, a clown _had_ performed an amazingly difficult trapeze trick to avoid speaking with her once. It was right after that clown had finally given Rory a new cotton candy after he'd knocked over her old one at the circus, and Lorelai had been reprimanding him to 'watch his balloon pants.' ('Cause it was his balloon pants that had knocked the first cotton candy over in the first place, see...).

The clown- or "Moffat McMister" as his nametag implied- had only escaped engaging in a catfight (Lorelai was actually sharpening her nails for the occasion) with her by joining the trapeze troupe behind him. And unintentionally performing an amazingly difficult trapeze trick. And falling off of the trapeze eventually. His balloon pants got caught in a wire.

Or something like that.

She thought of him wistfully. The red curly hair, the annoyingly loud costume. _Whatever happened to dear old Moffat McMister?_

The clown who'd taught her daughter the most important lesson in life- sugary junk food, while mostly a staple and essentially the nectar of life, can also sometimes lead to accidents, angry mothers, mob scenes, and lots of throwing up.

_ Focus, Lorelai. Luke and your proposal, remember? Right. That's it girl, think back to critical thinking. Think SAT. Even when Rory was a bun in your oven you aced that thing. Okay, going to stop thinking about Rory being a bun in my oven. Going to stop thinking about Rory. Going to stop thinking about ovens. And Sylvia Plath committing suicide with an oven. Well, I can always resort to that…_

_ Ah! Going to stop thinking about buns…Going to stop thinking about Luke's buns…Even if he has really, really nice buns. If edible buns could characterize his buns then the buns that characterized his inedible buns would be really, really good. Am I even making sense? No, I'm not. Need to focus on driving and get my focus off of Luke's buns. Going to think of Luke and your proposal but NOT LUKE'S BUNS. AVERT YOUR EYES FROM DREAM LUKE'S BUNS, LORELAI! They are not for you. They are for dream Lorelai's eyes only. You are not a dream skank, you said it yourself that one time. Focus, girl, focus. Time to get a grasp on reality. Which in most cases is pointless in your world but now a grasp would be good. Yeah, a grasp on Luke's buns… Augh. Okay, what is the most repellent thing you can think of that will get your mind away from Luke's buns? _

_ Man, I want pie. Luke's pie…not even going to go down that potentially twisted path! Going to think of…that scene in _Reservoir Dogs_. In fact, the entirety of _Reservoir Dogs_. Torturing…people screaming…lots of blood and gore and…Luke's buns. Nope, not working, Luke's freaking buns are too nice. And… firm. Can't think of any more adjectives, which is good since I'm trying to get away from the buns anyway. Um, okay, children in Africa dying. Now I'm depressed. Feel worthless. Luke's buns. Luke's buns in my oven…dirty! Majorly dirty. Can't see why Luke's buns would be in my oven in the first place, but…_

_ Grasp at reality, Lorelai, you can see the glimpse of light, just GRASP IT…ignore Luke's buns. Move, buns! You're blocking the light of reality…They really are quite large. "Luke's buns blocked the light which is my life…". Woah. If I put more thought into that I could make it really poetic. Ahaha! Imagine our wedding invitations, with this huge picture of Luke's buns on them…with a haiku underneath…are haiku lines 5/7/5 or 7/5/7? Must make a note to look that up online so I can write the haiku about Luke's buns… But still, the buns, need to get away from the buns…_

_ Nope, they won't go away…Ok, me proposing to Luke…which is where this fascinating thought cycle began anyway…nope, the buns are still there…shoes! Shoes is a good topic. And then you can avert to thinking about the proposal again! That's right, trick yourself. Ok, Jimmy Choos. Love them. Wearing them. Would kill myself without dear ol' Jimmy. Must send him a letter someday. Or set up a shrine in the garage…Next to pie, and pudding, and…parsley? When did this become an alliteration thing? Do I even like parsley? Who does like parsley? I mean, you eat the stuff but you don't form obsessions around it, it's basically just a garnish…Unless it's on tacos. I like tacos. But it's an ugly garnish. It reminds people of grass which reminds people of farms which reminds people that the steak they're eating was once a cow. A really cute cow that mooed and had a name- and an udder- and possibly was raised by an orphan because they found it near death in a field like in Free Willy except they found Free Willy in a marine park or whatever they're called…But a boy did find Willy…that sounds really dirty…And I'm depressed again. _

_ What's the point of parsley, though, really? It doesn't even taste good and you might as well use the land you use to grow parsley to grow other vegetables, stuff people actually eat in notable quantities. Squash, for example. Carrots. Potatoes. But don't we really have enough potatoes in the world? And why grow a vegetable that's going to make the nation obese, anyway? There must be a law somewhere restricting amount of potatoes grown, or at least the amount of potatoes you can use for French fries. Ah! Stay away from the French fry topic, Lorelai, this can only lead to Luke's fries which can only lead to Luke's…whatsits. That's right, Luke's whatsits are officially going to be known as whatsits. Is it just me or is my brain going to explode? A hypothetical question, obviously, as I am currently asking myself and I can only say "yes." 'Cause I really can't lie to myself. Err…yes I can. I've done it before. Ok! Pointless thoughts. Jimmy! Think of Jimmy. Love him. Did I already mention the shrine I'm going to build him when I get back? Back to my sad, sad life… And I'm back to Sylvia Plath…and I'm back to the oven…and I'm back to the buns._

By the time she reached home, having maneuvered (luckily) around several near-accidents, despite all of the random and long thoughts she was having- most of them about Luke's _truly_ scrumptious buns- Lorelai had not reached a conclusion. Nope, the ball was in Luke's court. But it was killing her. Maybe she should have chosen a more suitable moment to actually swing the racket? To put the ball in Luke's court, that is… I mean, she _had_ been upset, and maybe Luke didn't think she meant it. She was, after all, the non-commitment queen. Can you say a thousand yellow daisies? Not that Luke had such a fabulous record, either. Nicole…Rachel…both potential wives for Mr. Butch Buffethead 'the Trekkie' Danes, but he'd backed off, too. Or at least they'd simultaneously backed off of each other.

But that was just another thing they had in common. They'd both really screwed up in the past- romantically and otherwise- and they'd each been there for each other while it was happening. There was this big part of her that believed one of the _reasons_ they'd both screwed up was because, yeah, they'd been pining for each other. Maybe not 'pining' in the traditional sense (_is_ there any kind of tradition in pining? Or sense?) But there had been this subconscious part of them both that made them draw away from what could have been- with Max, or Christopher, or Nicole, or Rachel. Lorelai didn't think she'd really feel the need to go on an impromptu road trip three days before her hypothetical wedding with Luke. Never. She'd really meant what she'd said. About his amazingness, among other things.

The phone rang immediately as she opened the door to her house. She allowed herself a yelp as she stubbed her toe walking in typical Lorelai fashion and then a nice, loud groan.

_ Why does this always happen to me? And usually when I'm carrying five cups of coffee and a cashmere sweater and the phone is hidden beneath five of Rory's old dictionaries and a teacup? There are millions of possible things that could go awry with just those objects, many of them involving my death. Does God actually wait until I've just walked in with a pickup truck in my arms, hide my phone, and then call me just to smite me? Why is He so bent on this smiting crap, I'm loyal to my community…a relatively good person…yes, I dropped a gum wrapper outside the church a week ago but it was accidental…and besides, gum wrappers are biodegradable. So, in ten to fifteen years, God, that gum wrapper will not exist. But I, if God forbid you decide not to pull a Zeus, will. So ha. Enough with the smiting._

"Hello?" she barked into the mouthpiece.

"You okay?" Luke growled (in that distinctly Luke-ish way) back.

_ Oh, thank God… Luke. Yes, that's right, God, I'm thanking you._

"Who is this?" She just wanted him to say, 'It's Luke.' She didn't know why. Suddenly she had a flashback to middle school. Dialing John Whatsit's phone number, then quickly hanging up once he'd answered. Back in her multiple-ponytail days. Those were some good times.

"It's Luke. The man you've seen and heard talk on an almost daily basis for the past eight years?" Yep, it reaped the desired effect on Lorelai- massive butterflies invaded her body.

"Thought I recognized that ever-cheery voice." She sighed on the phone. Thinking of Rory again. Damn. She was going to try to not freak out about it again, she'd freaked out quite enough.

"Lorelai? You okay?" He sounded serious. Like he really cared what the answer was.

She hesitated before answering, wanting to give him the truth without sounding whiny. "I think…I will be. Things will work out. Hopefully in mine and the world's favor. Hopefully this is just a phase. Hopefully we knocked some sense into her, but if we didn't, I guess I'll just have to accept it. Actually, I'll probably never accept it. But I'll pretend to if fighting for the cause doesn't pay."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. She's…Rory…I think she listened today. Hopefully she's thinking she made a huge mistake as we speak…But if it makes you feel any better, if this doesn't pass as it should, I'll pretend with you." _Awww._

"So many 'hopefully's, so little time." _Bad joke, Lorelai._ But she was still getting over the 'awww'ness of what he'd just said. So misplaced humor could be excused. "I actually wanted to apologize for calling you up today, Luke, I'm not sure what I expected you to do. But you did everything exactly right, just like I wish I could do it. I just felt stuck. It was…childish, really. You were my knight in shining, err… plaid today. Thank you. I don't think I say that enough."

"It was…no problem. You needed me and I was up for any excuse, frankly, to get out of the diner. Taylor was just about to strangle me with his cardigan."

"Well, I'll call you with miscellaneous emergencies more often, Luke. That would've been unfortunate. Imagine your tombstone."_ Here Lies Butch Buffethead "the Trekkie" Danes. Strangled with a cardigan, and despite the many mocking opportunities accompanying his death, most involving the phrases 'Fab Five', 'Liberace', and 'Emily Post was there', loved by all._

"Actually, there's a reason I called. If you feel up to it," he began, almost shyly, "I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend. Maybe you need some 'you' time, or whatever the crap they call it on _Oprah_. You, me, dinner, movie…same ol', I know, but I think it would be good. For _both_ of us," he ended, almost pointedly, she thought._ Is it just me or is he completely ignoring the fact I proposed to him yesterday? And the fact I nearly re-proposed to him on a piece of paper an hour and a half ago? Yes, he is. Well, this is confusing._

"Um…sure, Luke. Like old times. Even though the 'old times' consists of basically everything before yesterday to about a year ago…" _Avoid rambling at all costs, Lorelai, especially on the phone…Just play it cool. If he wants to ignore it, you ignore it. Like the Max/kiss situation, although I really should not be comparing these two things…Hopefully Luke is not psychic and cannot read my mind right now…But would him being psychic explain all of the other times he's known exactly what I wanted? Ok, that sounds slightly dirty. But still. Freaky._ "When? Where? Give me the details and I'll try to not lose the post-it I write 'em on."

"How about…next week…on Wednesday? I'll pick you up at seven." Lorelai couldn't help but snort in laughter.

"Yes, Lorelai?"

"You said…Wednesday."

"So you're _not_ deaf. All those times you've ignored what other people have said… I'm sure Dr. Pellowski will be glad to know you can finally be put into that observation chamber."

"You know, Luke, you're really getting better at those witty responses. I think I've been rubbing off on you."

"I know, it's a pity."

"Hey! Not a good time to pick on the girlfriend! I've only had two cups of coffee today, at least five beneath my usual quota. And I finally found the old chainsaw this morning in the garage. Underneath Nicole Brown's body. Turns out _I_ killed her. Weird, isn't it?"

There was silence for a few moments. They were both smiling, although each (being .2 miles away) didn't know it._ This is really nice…Gah, wish these butterflies would just go haunt someone else. Perhaps this is yet another form of smiting. God clearly needs a therapist._

"Lorelai…?"

"Yeah, Luke?" It took her a second to pull out of her reverie.

"Why did you snort when I said 'Wednesday?'"

"Because… the word Wednesday makes me laugh. Haven't you ever noticed how hilarious it is? And if you've ever really stared at it, like I do with my multitudes of spare time, you'd know how weird it really is. Like, why isn't it pronounced Wed- nes- day? Huh? 'Cause it's funny, that's why."

_ I laughed because it's hump day, Luke, and my sense of humor is really immature. Have I really never made a hump day joke around you? That's like one of the major sub-categories of my jokes. There's 80's band jokes, spur-of-the-moment corny jokes, fat jokes, butt jokes, really horrible puns, and, of course, hump day jokes. Wait, why am I telling myself this? I already know these things. I live and breathe these things. Why are the buns back?_

"Alright, Lorelai. I'll pick you up on Wednesday at seven."

"Sounds really, really great. I'll be there. Or here, actually, since you're picking me up."

"And you're _sure_ you'll be ok?"

" 'Will' being the operative word…But for now, don't board up my oven expecting me to pull a Sylvia Plath. I think…hope… you're right. Maybe she did listen."

"Alright. See you Wednesday. But probably sooner."

"Probably."

"Bye, Lorelai."

"Bye, Luke," she replied, sighing again, and adding- as an afterthought-

"Bye, buns."

"What?"

She grinned. "Never mind, Luke, just tell them thanks for being the wonderful round things they are. And hopefully I'll see them again soon. Real soon." _Kinky._

He ignored her. "Wednesday. Seven. I'll pick you up. Try not to forget. Keep the post-it glued to your forehead if you must."

"Ok, Luke, I promise not to forget. And you'll have plenty of opportunities to remind me before Wednesday at seven. You can even sneak in my house in the middle of the night and permanently tattoo it on my face if you really feel it necessary."

"Bye, Lorelai."

"Of course, if you did that, then there isn't even the slightest possibility I'd go out with you this Wednesday at seven. But at least I'd know that in an alternate universe, one in which you _didn't_ tattoo the words 'Date with Luke on Wednesday at seven' on my face, that I should be going out with you, Luke, on Wednesday at seven."

"I think the world gets your point."

"Do you? 'Cause I can keep talking if you think it's sexy."

"Bye!"

"Bye, Luke. Bye-"

"Don't say it."

"Not fair!"

"This conversation is quickly becoming cutesy. I hate it when phone conversations get cutesy. Although with you it's clearly unavoidable."

" 'You're mighty pretty, Lorelai…why, I can see the stars in your eyes…all bright and what not…'" Lorelai said in her "Luke" voice. " 'Why, thanks, Butch, and your racin' suit is just so invitin' I think I could scream!'" she squealed.

"Aw, geez."

"Good_bye_, Lucas. Wednesday at seven. I may have to check with my other lover, but-"

Click.

* * *

After the scene outside the pool house, Rory had gone to the nearest Wendy's because the need to think about her life somehow accompanied the need to eat large portions of fried foods. It wasn't Luke's, but at least she didn't find any dead rats embedded in it. She sat in a plastic booth for two hours, nibbling at a double order of fries and taking the occasional sip from her extra large black coffee. People would give her a glance-over every minute or so, mostly because she knew she looked like a bum, or at least slightly insane in her cake pajamas, and partly because she was hogging the booth. But she didn't care, and they didn't call security or anything.

It was obvious that everyone close to her was going to judge her about her decision to leave Yale. She didn't blame them- it had been all they'd expected of her and all she'd expected of herself. All she'd wanted. But right now all she wanted was to decide what to do with her life. And everyone close to her couldn't accept it. Not Lorelai, not Logan, not Luke…not even Richard or Emily. She knew they were doing what they were doing not completely because they wanted to give her an actual mature choice, but because they didn't want Rory to alienate them as Lorelai had.

She knew that if Lorelai had been in the same position as she was, hypothetically speaking (and if Rory hadn't been conceived), that Emily and Richard wouldn't have let her live in the pool house. That's what was different about the relationship between Rory and her grandparents and Lorelai and her parents- Rory was more willing and able to make her grandparents happy, whereas Lorelai and her parents were both oppositely obstinate. They would never be exactly one of mind, or even close in opinion about everything. And that's what made Richard and Emily want to hold onto Rory as their pal, as their substitute daughter, because she still had the potential. But they both still wanted her to go to Yale. Not nearly as much as they wanted to keep her in their lives, but it was still there. And she knew that staying with her grandparents would possibly even widen the gap between everyone. Lorelai and Emily and Richard. Lorelai and her. There was only one solution she could think of that wouldn't involve living on her own, which she wasn't ready for. If Lorelai found out about it, of course, she'd be even angrier. But no one had to know until she was ready to make her decision. Because Luke and Lorelai and Logan were right- as much as her stubborn self hated to admit it, enrolling in Yale again had become one of her options. Just not her only one.

Polishing off her last fry, she decided to go back to the pool house to do some packing. There was a window right now- Emily was probably at her D.A.R. meeting at this point, and Richard usually worked on his car on Saturday afternoons. Taking a deep breath, she exited Wendy's and drove back to the place she could never call home.

_ Dear Emily and Richard,_

_ Don't be alarmed. I'm perfectly safe, and my cell phone is on if you want to reach me. I can't tell you where I am; I just need you to know that I'm not hurt or going to be hurt. Thank you for letting me stay in the pool house for the past day, but I don't think it's the right place for me right now. I can't explain it in a letter. You can tell mom, obviously, but tell her that this isn't because of her. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry it has to be like this. Tell her I'm not pulling a Sylvia, either. This note is just so you know that I'm not dead or anything._

_ Please don't try to look for me. That's why I have my cell, so you can reach me, but I'd rather be alone. Thanks for everything, again. I'll see you really soon. Tell mom that I love her for me._

_ I love you, and once again, I'm all right._

_ Rory_

* * *

Rory stood outside of the blue-doored apartment, nervously adjusting various sections of herself in her compact. First, her makeup. There wasn't much to check- just a tiny smidgen of lip gloss spread on her lips. Her coat- there was an annoying crease near the collar she'd somehow overlooked when she'd ironed it that afternoon. But it would do. Her hair- she tucked a stray curl behind her ear tentatively. She didn't understand why she was so nervous.

It took ten minutes for her to calm down completely, even trying slow breathing, which Paris had taught her to do after a meeting with her "life coach" last year_. Maybe I need one of those_. Hmmm… And end up like Paris? She shuddered, realizing that for the first time she was actually more screwed up than Paris was. Terrifying, considering everything Paris was and had done…a relationship with someone more than three times her age…the whole sex- and public speaking blow out on C-Span. Everything. But yeah, Rory definitely beat her in screwiness on this one.

_ Well, this is fun._ She chuckled ironically. Yep, betraying her mother, Luke, and herself in one fabulous move. But it was for the best. And she reminded herself that she wouldn't let anyone know. And it was just a place to stay, a place to sleep and eat. She wasn't going to make it a home for herself. In fact, she wasn't even going to unpack or put up photos- just sleep on the couch and use the washing machine. She was going to be busy thinking about things- she was going to search and travel as far as she was going to let herself go. And if she told herself she wanted to go to Yale, then Yale it was. If not, then she'd have to find something else to do.

She checked her watch- it was six. She'd packed, wrote the note, and driven over here, which took in itself about three hours. Then, just to kill time, she'd gotten Starbucks and bought a CD she remembered Lane once told her about. But now, now it was time. He should be home now, and she knew that if she waited one second longer she'd chicken out.

She could always back out. She could always go back to the pool house and live there with her grandparent's eyes on her, explain the note to them, that it was a mistake. There was still time to stitch up this wound before it bled too much. These were the moments she'd dreaded- the moments she always dreaded in any situation- those moments where the decision is yet to be completely made, but its right in front of you, waiting and lingering along with your other choices.

Her choice flew past her brain at a dizzying rate as she poised her fist, ready to knock, ready to let go…and closing her eyes and letting breath fill her lungs, like a kid about to jump into a pool for the first time, she did. She let go of the choice. The knock resounded in the air around her for a second- it was a weak knock, unsure of itself, characterizing everything she felt right now. And suddenly, like she knew she would, she felt herself closing up. This was wrong, she needed to get away, now. But she grabbed her luggage tightly, didn't let herself run away from this decision.

Finally, after an eternity, the door opened, slowly, followed by a nose, and eyes and a head.

"_Rory_?" His face was blank for a moment, then registered shock.

"Dad…" she said shakily, avoiding his eyes. "I was wondering if I could stay here for awhile."

"Of course, Rory, I just…" Still looking at the ground, she nervously grabbed her two suitcases and tried to maneuver around him, wanting to get the first few minutes of this experience over quickly.

"It'll just be for a little while. Um, do you have a place I can sleep?" She chanced a look at his neck down- he was wearing a dress shirt and creased pants, but there was a yellow stain on his left shoulder. Gigi's doing, she presumed.

"Does your mom know about this?"

"A sofa, daybed, cot, rock, I don't care. I'm not picky." She looked around her- it was the same as the last time she'd seen it months ago. Black sofa, modern furniture, a crib in the corner.

"Rory." She hated the expression on his face- the one that tricked the observer into thinking he was mature- that he actually cared. She knew that at some level, he did care, but he was also the epitome of careless. Screwing up, never showing, whatever, he was just there to be whatever he was on the surface.

"No. She doesn't know." She knew that she was making a shining moment for him- a moment in which he was actually the one there for his daughter. For the first time in his life, he was going to be the real dad who Rory came to. She hated that she was giving him the opportunity to look better than her mother. He didn't deserve it, and this situation really had nothing to do with him.

"Don't you think we should tell her? She's going to be worried about you."

She hated that he said 'we' should tell her. She hated everything about him, right now, his superficiality. Immaturity. But she wasn't in the position to judge, she knew- she was coming to him this time. And beginning to regret, like she knew she would. _I'll get this done quick. It'll just be a few days. _

"I left a note. Can I sleep here?" She crossed the room and indicated a single bed through a half-opened doorway.

He still looked severely dazed. "Uh, sure. Don't you think you should call-"

"So I can set up my stuff, then?" she interrupted loudly, and placed her suitcases and her shopping bag next to the bed.

Christopher followed her in the room. Rory got as far away from him as possible on the bed, squishing up against the headstand.

"Rory? What's this about?" He gave her space, lingering in front of the doorway.

"I…quit Yale." Even now, the words rolled strangely out of her mouth.

"_What_? Rory?" _Oh no, he's going to pull a Lorelai._

"I told mom, she's not happy, as you can probably imagine, and I was going to stay at grandma and grandpa's, but I know they're not happy either. I just need to stay somewhere unjudgemental and think. Your place was the only one that came to mind." She met his eyes for the first time, and they looked at each other for a moment._ You owe me._ "It's not for long," she repeated.

"Rory, of course I think you're making a mistake. I wouldn't be a worthy human being if I didn't think you weren't making a mistake." He paused, waiting for a reply, or explanation, or some sign of emotion. She didn't give him any. "But we'll talk about it later." He sat on the bed awkwardly. She didn't move any closer. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm just going to unpack."

"I still think you should call her," he said, getting up again. The silence between them in this situation couldn't have been more still.

"I left a note. She knows my cell number."

"Rory…" He was searching for the perfect words he always seemed to have, that immediately resurrected him as the perfect guy, perfect father, but this time they didn't come.

"Don't tell her, ok? I'd rather she didn't know exactly where I'm staying." His eyes registered with the meaning.

Somewhere in the distance, a loud sob broke the silence. He didn't move for a few seconds, then made a jerky movement toward the hallway, as if he'd just realized he had another daughter. "That's- Gigi. I think she's hungry." He looked at her, still waiting for some kind of confession or reason other than the terse words she'd offered him. She just worked as hard as she could to make the space between them as icy as possible. This was not because she needed him, and she wanted him to understand it.

Another loud sob. "Don't you think you should go feed her now?" Her voice was still shaking.

"Yeah-…Yeah." He left the room.

* * *

It was seven the next morning when Lorelai got the call. She checked caller ID, paranoid, as she always did, and groaned when she saw the call was coming from her parents' house. She wouldn't have answered it if the possibility it was Rory didn't exist. But it did. So she sighed and grabbed it.

"Hello?"

"Lorelai, I've been trying to reach you all night! Don't you ever check your messages?" Emily was nearly yelling into the phone, near hysteria.

"Woah, mom, get a handle on the bucking bronco! What's happening?" She checked her watch; she was due at the Inn in five minutes and she wasn't even dressed yet. Stupid Michel, waking her up at three in the morning yesterday. One more simpering excuse from him and she was going to fire him.

"I left you seven messages, Lorelai, seven! And you're telling me not one of them got through to you?"

"Mom! I was at the Inn yesterday until eleven, and I was exhausted so I went straight to bed. I really don't have time-"

"Rory is missing!" Lorelai had to laugh at her mother's hypocrisy. Telling her two days ago that her 'little jokes' about Rory weren't funny- like that time she told Emily Rory was going to become a maid. Was this not in the same genre?

"Why are you laughing, Lorelai? You're daughter is missing! I come home from my meeting, and I find the note on the table, and-"

"Wait, wait. Slow down, here. What note?" Starting to get a little concerned.

"The one she left on the table before RUNNING AWAY. Your daughter is missing!"

"So I've heard. When did you find the note?"

"I'm telling you, after I came home from my D.A.R. meeting yesterday at around four."

"And what did the note say?"

"Why does it matter? Rory is missing!"

"Mom, I'm not deaf. I heard it the first fifteen times you said it, I just need to get the facts now."

"It said- do you want me to read it to you?"

She sighed. "Sure."

Emily read the note out loud, and it was only by the end that Lorelai knew completely that she wasn't kidding. She also knew exactly where Rory had gone. And that maybe she needed to stay there. It was hard, but she was going to have to let Rory make this decision on her own, with the argument she'd given yesterday in mind. She felt extremely mature (compared to the bush incident) when she faced her mother on the phone.

"So, what are we going to do?" Emily sounded hysterical.

"Nothing. _We_ are going to do nothing. I'll call her in the afternoon to ask her how she's doing, just to check, but it's obvious she doesn't want to talk to either of us right now."

"But-"

"Mom, I know where she is. She's fine, she's safe. Rory's a little bit crazy right now but she's still smart. I know she won't do anything drastic. At most she'll get a belly button ring. Maybe- she just needs to think." It was hard for Lorelai to say, considering how much she wanted to march over to Rory and slap her right now. Or be there for her. But she'd given her all of the support she could yesterday- and now, she would wait. Give more 'advice' if she believed it necessary. She still thought Rory was being an idiot. But the fact was- she'd done all she really could. She didn't see how her repeating the same things she'd said yesterday to her would really do anything but wear her down.

"Fine," Lorelai's mother said, in a cool tone, a bit like a child that wasn't getting her way. "But I'm calling her."

"I can't stop you. But just give her some space, alright?"

"I need to go. Letitia's burning the eggs."

Lorelai sighed. "Bye."

Click.

* * *

**i know, right? it was horrible. it caused internal hemmorraghing (UGH that is such a nasty word to spell) and youre gonna sue me because you are in a coma (wait...youre familys gonna sue me cuz if youre in a coma you cant sue me cuz youre unconscious) and it was my bad writing that did it. my horrible, horrible writing. i need to find a synonym for horrible- oh, right. bad. it was really bad. i know this. but just review. please? ill give you a cyber lap dance. it will be interesting for both of us. (was that innapropriate?) Z. Tired. Sleep. I ramble when im tired. have you noticed? Ok, going to stop now.**


	5. Deja Vu

Hello, folks. It's...12:07 a.m. right now. And I'm in no mood for rambling. I know you are thanking god right now. Heh. Well, I'll get right to the thanking. THANKS. To all of you who reviewed, especially those who review continuously. I love you with all of my heart and you are officially in my will.

**Antifangirl725**: Thank you for thinking that line is brilliant. And for thinking Chapter four is HILARIOUS. You even put HILARIOUS in all caps. Which I'm assuming is an embellishment. But I could be WRONG. Oh, chuckle.I'm having way too much fun...damn chocolate...well, thanks for reviewing.

**epona9009**: I agree with you, I hate Chris right now. I mean, he completely tricked me in the first and second seasons. How could he not, with that classic "Nice shirt. Take it off" line in "That Damn Donna Reed." Ah, to be young again. But I agree with you- in that moment in the fifth season I wanted to seriously strangle his drunken butt until his eyes popped out of his face...And then I wanted to attack him with a cleaver. Put lemon juice on his wounds. Smash him repeatedly in the stomach with a baseball bat. And so on. Glad you liked the rest, though...My brilliantness surprises even me sometimes...Ha, just kidding.

**Muffin Is Injured**: Muffin. Muffin, muffin, muffin. What can I say? When I recieved your review a few weeks ago, I read it. Expecting...I don't know what. But it blew me away. I mean, you used a really exemplary sample of positive adjectives. Words that have only been used in referrence to me and my mind with a highly sarcastic undertone...like, when I trip over those annoying cracks in the sidewalk or tree roots that everyone seems to avoid but I, who is usually rambling to loudly to look down and notice them. It happens surprisingly often. I love your review with all my heart. I named it Clydette, and read it over and over until my ego was huge. Literally five times what it used to be. It has minimized quite a bit since, but the aftereffects remain. And I love Hump Day, too! Who doesn't? Unless you're amish or something. Glad you liked (no, wait, I believe the word you used was 'LOVED') my Lorelai internal Luke's buns rant and the Reader's Digest version thing. Believe me, I considered printing out your review a million times and painting it on my ceiling, but I have a popcorn ceiling and that would be a really horrible use of trees. So I digressed. The only bad thing is that now I have to live up to your hype. I hope I don't disappoint. I better not. And, oh yes, I believe I owe you a lap dance now, eh? And I'm a girl, to answer your question. Glad I seem like one. If I didn't that would be...weird.

**bloodymary2**: Thank you for your AWESOME review. Seriously. And don't worry, I'm straight, too...I just happen to give alot of lap dances. People don't usually want them. But I do it anyway! And free, too. Heh. And a comparison with "Muffin is Injured"? I'm touched! Seriously. Your review was another ego-booster. And I believe that Rory's crisis would be referred to as a 'one-third-life crisis.' When I was angsty and ten years old I used to call it a 'one-eighth-life crisis.' Not quite as catchy as mid-life, is it? But what can ya do. Hope, once again, that I live up to your expectations with this chapter (if you review again.)

Getting tired, so...Thanks to **VeroSNM**, **HuntingPeace**, **Suzanne** (love the repetition of the word 'love' by the way), **LorLukealways**,**LukeNlorelaifan**, **Lynnyb, Biscuit**and **yg.**

Also thanks to**ultimategilmoregirl**and **ProFfeSseR** who didn't like the rambling as much, but don't fear. There's a lot more dialogue in this chapter.

SO. Now. Without further adieu...Oh wait.

**Disclaimer: Do not own Gilmore Girls.**

Also, just...last note...I assumed that Chris lived in Boston because of the second season (he says he lives in Boston) and I assumed that Harvard is very near Boston because of what Sherri (Sherry?) says about Rory being able to stay in their place in the third season. So. Sorry if I'm wrong. If I am, then, um, dunno what I'll do. So. Now. Without further adieu.

* * *

_ Her house was unusually small and gray, and for some reason an army of small children were circling around it banging pots and pans with spoons. She could tell, because, in her room, she was trying to look out of her window. Lorelai was screaming at her to just look outside the window, to try, damnit, but Rory couldn't open her eyes. For some reason she could imagine the grayness of her house while closing her eyes, as if she had a bird's eye view. She was in her room, though, trying to ignore the only vision she had, and struggling to open her eyes. Now Christopher and his parents were screaming at her with Lorelai, as well as Lorelai's parents. The children outside were starting to climb in through her window, and all of a sudden, everything went black and silent._

Rory woke suddenly at the ringing of her cell phone. It was four P.M. that Sunday, and as she sat up in bed she realized she had a pounding headache. Her phone wouldn't shut up, as if insisting she answered it. She rubbed her head and looked at it. 'Home', it said, floating in hi-liter yellow in bold black letters- letters that naively believed she still had a home where this call was coming from. She once had, but home was something she couldn't find right now. She recalled her dream, which was getting vaguer by the second.

"Hello?" she breathed into the mouthpiece, wishing that Lorelai had hung up or decided not to go through with the call or that the smallness of her voice as she spoke would detract from Lorelai responding.

"Rory." No such luck. It was her mother's voice- hard, as it could be when she was angry or in a fight and wasn't ready to apologize. Or accept an apology.

"Mom." Her voice was a bit louder, trying to match up with the big punch Lorelai'd just thrown her.

"I just wanted to check up with you. Make sure you haven't joined any cults." It was a typical Lorelai-esque joke, but strangely free of its usual warmth. It was cold and hard and dry. It made Rory gulp.

"Oh, um…no, I'm still on God's good side." She didn't bother with a fake laugh.

"Good." The word gave her frostbite.

"Yeah, good." Silence, for a painful few seconds. "Have you?"

"What?"

"Have you…um… joined any cults?" What was this? Some weak attempt to rekindle the easy, witty relationship they'd always had? It wasn't going to come back with a few phrases of cold banter. Why were they pretending like this?

"No. I haven't."

"Oh." It was getting awkward.

"Rory, I…" There was a long pause.

"What?"

Lorelai sighed. "Never mind. I better go."

"Oh, ok." Another pause. "Mom…I…"

"What?"

"Nothing. I've…gotta go, too."

"Bye…"

"Yeah. Bye."

Lorelai almost winced as she hung up the phone. What had she just been about to tell Rory…What had Rory just been about to tell her? She didn't know. Something along the lines of "I know where you are and why you're doing this," maybe. And what was with their conversation? The tone was expected- the hardness of both of their voices was something she'd been dreading because she knew it would exist as it never had before in the aftermath of…everything. But the actual content? "Rory, have you joined any cults?" Why were they trying to mask the real questions they had for each other like that? At least she knew she wasn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere with her guts spilling out. Although it was hard to say if where or who she actually was right now was any better. In fact, "she was lying in a ditch somewhere with her guts spilling out" was a great metaphor for Rory in this situation.

As she frustratedly pulled her hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in all day, Lorelai's stomach grumbled loud enough for her to suspect the neighbors would be coming over with guns at any moment. She hadn't had time to eat anything since breakfast- which had been unsavory anyway- coffee and toast, which had been all Sookie had time to make her that morning. There'd been an unusual breakfast rush. Actually, not an unusual rush for Sunday, when most guests just wanted room service and to eat amongst the Dragonfly's signature soft pillows. But still, Lorelai had been actually displeased when she saw Sookie working her butt off in the kitchen that morning, despite the fact the Inn was making some serious business. It was selfish, she knew- she was craving something delicious and deep-fried and Sookie was already too busy appeasing the guests' cravings for something delicious and deep-fried. But now her admittedly speedy metabolism had long since used up all of the calories her tiny breakfast reaped, and she was starved. There was only one place to go in situations like these. And she didn't even want to go there right now, considering the question a certain someone who worked there was avoiding at this moment.

There were a few options. One, she could simply try to conserve her energy until tomorrow by taking very slow steps and just sleeping on the couch. But to a woman who was used to eating a burger (or two), three cups of coffee (or eight), an extra large order of fries, two scoops of ice cream (with sprinkles), a piece of pie, maybe a few bags of Raisinets, M&M's, Mallowmars, etc., a couple pickles, chips, and not to mention a miscellaneous assortment of other fatty foods that seem to go together only in her world- in one sitting, the option was preposterous.

Two, she could walk to Al's. It was Russian night, though, and she was having a hard time thinking up what exactly Al would be serving on Russian night. _What do those Russians eat, anyway? I'm not even sure where Russia is located geographically. I know its in Asia or Europe- Isn't it that country you'd expect to be European but no, its like huge and right next to China. Right? That's Russia. And I don't know what kind of meat they serve there, and Al's not one known to hold back, exactly. Even when he was serving pancakes his condiments were iffy. I do not want to be caught eating ferret or mongoose or one of Hannibal Lector's siblings. So no for Al's? Yes. Al's is a definite no._

Three, she could order out. But the pizza place had crashed their delivery truck again- it had been Joe this time- and they were all on scooters and mopeds. She didn't have the patience or energy for scooters and mopeds. _Need food. Now._ Chinese? That place had recently gotten a lot smellier and a lot greasier now that Something-or-other Lee's sons were cooking.

Which left Luke's. The option she'd automatically cancelled out before. Luke's with the best food on the planet. Luke's with the handsome Luke with the nice buns in it. But also Luke's with the potential awkwardness between her and her handsome Luke in it. Her stomach moaned again- this time she thought it was actually speaking to her. With vowels and consonants and all the rest. _Luuuuuuke's. God, I have a one-track stomach. Ahhhh, I'm so hilarious to even myself at times. Even when I'm starving- very nearly literally this time- and exhausted, I am hilarious._ She couldn't resist the urge any longer. It was time for some serious deep-fried goodness. She grabbed her coat and put it on, preparing herself for the sweet seduction of one of Luke's patties (dirty) on one of Luke's special burger buns (_dirty)_ with mounds of ketchup and onions and ahhhhhhh….

She marched through Luke's door and immediately flapped a wad of money in the air toward the counter. Screw awkwardness; they were both champs at avoiding it anyway. They should be now. Considering. "Oh, Lu-uke! If you can make me a burger and fries in under thirty seconds I will not only give you, um…" She quickly counted her money, "Three dollars, but there will also be a _lot_ of compensation, my friend, and trust me, with all of the stretching I've been doing lately, it'll…"

She drifted off, realizing there was no Luke behind the counter, only ten confused Stars Hollow citizens staring at her with their burgers clutched in their fingers in mid-air. She cleared her throat. _Be charming. Be witty. They obviously do not understand what in the name of Buddha's fat rolls you're talking about, which can only be a good thing._

"Does anyone know where…Luke is?" Caesar popped out from the kitchen and answered her question. With a dropping of an anonymous fork, the noise in the diner eventually returned.

"He's out on an errand."

"An errand?" _Since when does _Luke_ go out on 'errands'? That's so…Donna Reed. That's so…my mother. Ugh._ "What kind of errand? Is he just at Doose's?"

"No, he took the day off."

"Huh. That's a really long errand. What could someone who owns a diner possibly need an entire day to order? I mean, hello, there's the Internet. And a grocery store right next door." Caesar stared at her. "Are you sure he's not actually on a killing spree? You'd be really surprised how much that happens. I mean, some person tells people they're out on an 'errand' and the next thing you know, there's ten rotting corpses in their living room. Or basement. Or any room, really, just as long as it's large enough and has some kind of smell-proof walls or windows. Just somewhere that's you know, hidden, because…" _Yep, they're staring again._ She cleared her throat again. "Can I just order?"

She sheepishly took a seat at the counter. Caesar disappeared into the kitchen again after giving her a 'one moment' sign. _Why am I disappointed that he's not here? This way, I can avoid the awkwardness. Awkwardness is never good. But still, I sort of wish we could talk. About what? I don't know. Well…maybe I do know. But Luke is…_

"Lorelai?" Lane stood on the other side of the counter, looking slightly concerned. Lorelai jumped in her seat and smiled at her daughter's best friend. She wondered if Rory had told her yet. She seriously doubted it, considering how clear the letter had been- she didn't want any more arguments.

"Lane! Hello! Wow! I haven't seen you in a long time!" she said, very cheerily, convincing even herself.

"Yeah, it's been at least three days," Lane replied, now looking a bit confused.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, it seems like longer. We never really talk anymore. It's always you taking my order and you serving me- how it _should_ be, really- um, just kidding…" she chuckled. "But how is the band doing?"

"Actually, we're going on tour this summer."

"Wow. That's so…band-ish of you."

"I know, that's what I said."

"Where? I hope you're not getting all new- Alanis Morisette on us and only playing in like, café's because especially for new bands like yours no one knows about yet, that would be bad…"

"Oh, we're doing it my mom's way. The Seventh-day Adventist way."

"Oh, no. You mean…"

"We're going to rock out the Christian/ Catholic crowd. Churches, youth groups, possibly nunneries, but I'd have to ask my mother."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Lane."

"Nah, it's fine. It's actually pretty awesome. I mean, this is _my band's_ first tour. We are going to finally be putting ourselves out there. Our art is going to be realized by the youth of America. And they will like it, damnit!"

"Well, I'm glad you're looking at it that way." They smiled at each other. "Uh, Lane? Luke didn't happen to tell you where he is, did he?"

"I heard he was out on an errand…"

"So, no specifics?"

Lane shrugged. "Sorry, my shift started at 12 and that's what Caesar told me…"

"So everyone's being vague. Nice." She nodded.

"Can I take your order?"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me, I'm starved. And probably losing all of my energy talking like this. In fact, that's probably how I lose all of my energy. I'll have a burger- and I think you know how I want it-"

Lane started reciting-"No lettuce, no tomato, just grilled onions mixed with raw onions and a pickle on a toasted sesame bun, two slices of cheese, with extra ketchup and mayo?"

"Ah, Lane. You pretty, pretty girl. You know me so well. And make that with a double order of fries. No, make it triple. I'm feeling risky today. Screw the clogged arteries! Screw wrinkles! Screw the reduced life span!" She smacked her fist on the counter.

"Is that all?"

"A cup of coffee, too, and keep them coming. And can you put, like, a handful of those little cute carrots on the plate next to the burger? I think Luke has some of those somewhere in his fridge. I wouldn't want to get kidney failure from eating all this crap before I finally get to see if Anne Heche ever does decide to build a spaceship and transport herself back to Celestia's planet. 'Oh, Quiness.'"

" 'Nokka dune notta?'" Lane replied, imitating Anne Heche's secret alien language.

"As I said. You know me too well."

"It's coming right up." Lane took Lorelai's unnecessary menu and went to get her order.

Watching her go, Lorelai was almost sad to think that everything was the same, including Lane…Rory's best friend…It was like the town was just rushing past her, despite how important she'd been to the town in the past. No one knew about her except for Lorelai and Luke in Stars Hollow, of course, or at least she _thought _no one did- but she still had the entirely unreasonable feeling that everyone should be supporting her. Like Miss Patty should've found out by now and told everyone in the town- it would've comforted her, strangely enough. As if Miss Patty or Babette spent their entire time traipsing behind the Gilmore jeep. There was other gossip to attend to. Lorelai felt alone, nevertheless, right now, in the diner with neither Luke nor Rory to banter with. Had she ever actually been in Luke's without her daughter or her then-friend, now-boyfriend/ possibly fiancé? She couldn't remember a time. But now. The atmosphere was definitely different. And who were these random Stars Hollow people? She'd never seen them before. The only people she knew in this diner were Lane and Caesar. And herself, of course.

_Clink-clink-clink._ The diner door opened behind her. She spun around in her swivel chair, hoping it was Luke returning from his 'errand.' It was Kirk, with a fiddle in his hand. He had a 'Countdown to Harry Potter 6' shirt on, and a wizard's hat. "Does anyone have any extra wart-remover cream? " he asked, clearly distressed. "Taylor won't give me any."

Right on cue, Taylor walked through Luke's door. "Kirk, it's only because you've been clearing my aisles of it. You've used ten tubes in the past two days! You know I don't allow any customer to use exorbitant amounts of any product in my store when I know for a _fact_ they're using it for purely entertainment!" Lorelai looked behind the counter, where Lane was filling up a mug with coffee. They exchanged an amused glance.

Lorelai sighed. She knew two people- the two people she found most important in her world- who would've enjoyed this moment. And they weren't there beside her.

* * *

It was hard for Rory, someone who'd always had at least some kind of organization of her life, to accept this weird, lazy way of living. The day after she arrived, she woke up at noon (she thought this might just be some weird automatic self-preservation thing that meant she wanted to avoid Chris, who generally was off to work or some other place way before then, and didn't get back until at least five, when she would make sure she was out). When she noticed, to her relief, that her father had left a note on the refrigerator explaining his absence- _Rory. Feel free to eat anything. I'm at lunch, _she was honestly too tired to do anything but scrounge around in his cupboard for cereal. She was slightly amused to see what brands he had. At the front was the healthy stuff that a stranger at his house might be impressed with- a box of Kashi, some oatmeal, and of course, the much-coveted (by cardiologists everywhere) Raisin Bran (to reduce his cholesterol, of course). But as she delved into his supply more deeply she could see his guilty pleasures emerge. Oreo O's, chocolate Rice Krispies, and, at the very back, a mostly eaten box of Lucky Charms. She very nearly laughed. _My dad is a cereal whore._

She grabbed the Oreo O's. They seemed just chocolatey enough to be disgusting and delicious at the same time. They reminded her of Lorelai in that way- Oreo O's would be something she would love, possibly something she'd put on the mantelpiece next to pudding and pop-tarts. Even though she felt uncomfortable taking anything he had, even disgusted with herself for doing it, she figured eating large amounts of his cereal was a good way to start compensating for all those times he hadn't been there. It would never be compensated, though. That was something she knew.

After eating two bowls of the stuff in her pajamas, she decided it was time to do something. What, she didn't know. It was the first time in her life she'd had all this time and no purpose or attachments. Yeah, she'd made pretty sure she'd cut all of those off. She got dressed quickly, cleaned up the kitchen, and repacked her dirty clothes, not wanting to make any sign of her existence here. She grabbed her wallet and left a five-word note- _I'll be back by six_.

Planless, pointless.

She didn't bother taking her car. It was Boston. There should be some form of public transportation here. She started off in a random direction, careful to note street names and building structures. She had her cell, of course, just in case. But that's all it was. Just in case. She didn't want to be dependent, even the tiniest bit. After walking two blocks, she found a bus, and not particularly caring where it went, boarded.

She sat next to a relatively good-looking college-aged guy with dark hair. He kept looking over at her, obviously readying himself to flirt. She cursed him. Usually she would enjoy this sort of attention, if it came from Logan, but she wasn't in the mood.

"So," he said, grinning at her. She gave him an exasperated smile. "Whatcha reading?" He gestured to the unopened book in front of her.

"Vonnegut," she replied shortly, not looking at him.

"Interesting choice."

"I'm sure the New York Times would agree."

"I think they would." He stared at her, still, smiling, for a minute. She pretended to read while getting more and more annoyed by him.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I could be staring at many things. The fascinating filthy bus bench, your sweater, perhaps. Your book." God, he was like Tristan and Jess rolled up into one cocky ass-like package. She didn't say anything else, just concentrated on her reading.

The bus finally came to a stop, and she grabbed her purse and stood up. She sighed when she saw her little friend get up, too.

"What, princess? This is my school. I have to get off here or I'd probably be expelled."

"Your school…" she looked out the window and saw the sign, right in front. _Harvard University_. It hit her like a brick in the head.

"Are you going to move?"

"Last stop!" she could hear the driver yell down the nearly empty rows. Damn, she should've checked the bus schedules. She should've planned this.

"Oh…sorry," Rory said, walking down the aisle and out of the bus.

Harvard University- it was all the same. She remembered the last time she'd been standing in this spot. It seemed like such a long time ago- she'd been sixteen. Almost four years ago. Four years ago, she was sixteen years old, nearly seventeen- she'd been outside this open entrance, standing next to her mother.

She'd been in awe, thinking she was beholding her future. She'd been excited. Lorelai had been excited. They'd been like a damn cheerleading brigade. Rory remembered then, and she remembered now. She was a few inches taller now. Her hair was shorter. She was a little bit thinner. Four years was a little for so much change. Her mom was with Luke, for one. And she'd almost been with Christopher. Rory now had a half-sister. Rory had long since broken up with Dean. She'd gotten with Jess, broken up with Jess, Jess had told her he loved her, then she'd dissed Jess in her Yale dorm room. She'd then slept with Dean, who was married, starting a whole new cycle of breaking up and getting back together and leaving hurt people in her wake. And then Logan. And Yale- she'd gone to Yale, not this grand place in front of her. She'd changed the plan.

Four years. It was short, for everything that had happened. She could remember everything about those four years, but she couldn't seem to find a reason she was standing there. Waiting for the Welcome to Harvard University sign in front of her give her some answers. What had changed? She could answer that question, sure. She could write several term papers on that question. But…why had _she_ changed? Was it Jess's influence so long ago that led her to this moment? Was it sleeping with Dean last year that took away the excitement she'd once felt, gazing upon this entryway? Was it Logan? It wasn't her mother- Lorelai was the one constant in her life. Now she didn't even have that. She searched and searched, but she couldn't find a reason. Was there even a reason, or had this hopeless moment been lodged in her fate since she was born?

Because now, she didn't want to go inside that campus. She didn't want to buy Harvard sweatshirts, Harvard pencil holders, Harvard gum, Harvard ice cream, or sneak into a Harvard dorm. She wanted to sleep again. She wanted a magical way to get out of this stupid mess, and she wanted something or someone to tell her why she was on the verge of frustrated tears outside of Harvard. She wanted to know why that guy on the bus was staring at her with a slightly amused expression and she wanted to be the same person who had stood on this spot four years ago with a smile on her lips and in her blue eyes and she wanted coffee damnit. That last want seemed to be the only want she could appease.

She looked at Mr. College Boy, who had yet to move and was raising his eyebrows at her. Trying to keep her voice intact, she asked him. "Where's the nearest coffee place?" He pointed wordlessly inside the campus, at a kiosk lying two hundred feet away. She looked at it. Beholding her future.

* * *

The knock came from the front door downstairs. She checked her watch. 7:00, right on the dot. Ugh. Why did every guy she dated have this problem?

"Luke, it's seven o clock!" she shouted from upstairs, struggling to line one of her eyes while using her left hand to keep her hair from falling into her face.

"I know."

"It's seven o clock, and you told me you'd pick me up at seven o clock!"

"I'm sorry, I'm still not seeing the problem." Outside, Luke began to tap his foot nervously. He checked his hair in the Gilmore's silver doorknob (very hard to do, and completely pointless) and began brushing his suit and clothes, avoiding his pants pocket tentatively.

"So…everyone knows that seven actually means seven twenty, seven fifteen at the very earliest!"

"I think I missed that chapter in Emily Post." He looked down at his shoes and scowled at the small scuff mark he'd seemed to made on the way to the door. These were brand new shoes. He'd bought them yesterday from a condescending French lady who'd charged him way too much and reminded him unbearably of Michel.

"Once again, the witty comebacks are so not your forte." She looked in her mirror again. Ugh, since when was lining so difficult? One of her eyes was at least twice as thick as the other one.

"Yeah, actually arriving for a date at seven when I said, quite specifically, I might add, that I'd be here at seven is my forte." He took his shoe off and wiped it on the Welcome mat.

"You're not giving me enough primping time!" _Ow. I knew I should've just stuck with the mascara. Damn._

"I gave you plenty of primping time! I told you I'd be here at seven, I'm here at seven. You could easily have begun getting ready fifteen to twenty minutes earlier, instead of making me wait fifteen to twenty minutes to actually pick you up for a date I said I'd pick you up at seven for." He looked around, to make sure Babette wasn't staring at him through her window or something, and casually checked his breath. He grimaced and popped in a mint.

"I'm getting dizzy from the running in circles and that is not a good thing when I've got a sharp pointy object near my eyeballs!"_ Stupid…eyeliner…cheap…eyeliner…_

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Luke smiled at the 'sharp pointy object' comment. He checked his breath again, whilst muttering at himself for being stupid. He found it to be satisfactory.

"Just wait for me to finish primping! Just…hide behind a bush! In fact, wait in the car! A lady never lets a man hear her primp. Primpery is a secret method that dates way back to the ice age days. I believe we used Velociraptor dung for eyeliner back in the day, but the same basic concept applies. Man brings home the bacon, girl gets pretty so as to get the bacon. It's quite the vicious circle if you think about it. Because then the man loses the bacon to the girl and needs to re-get the bacon. I believe God actually threw up his hands and pleaded for the mental ward when he ran into that problem." She shook her head at the weird silence that followed that rant. _Is it just me or am I making little to no sense whatsoever?_

"I'm coming in, Lorelai!" _She's making no sense._

_No, Luke! No! Ow! Whatever happened to my lining skills, huh? And look at my face, I'm all flushed. I'm shaking and I'm flushed. Why am I so nervous? I can guess why, actually. Major Max déjà vu. I believe this whole 'always be late on a date' (ooh, a rhyme) conversation is the exact one I had with him before… No, do not think about Max right now. This is about Luke and I, this is not the same as Max and I. It's not the same. Luke and I work. Work really well. I proposed. That in itself shows a level of commitment I've never, ever showed for anyone else. I just hope he doesn't pull a Lorelai. Ah! He's coming in. Hurry, hurry. Just line the eye and walk away. That's right. Alright, good. Eyes are lined, evenly, and I don't look remotely like Morticia Addams. Good. Ok…hair? Remembered to curl it? Yes, I did. Check. Dress? I'm not naked, am I? No, not naked. Wearing a good dress. Splurged on this one. And good shoes. They appear to match perfectly. Check. Lips…sheer gloss…check. Got some in my bag just in case. Mascara…check. Not too clumpy, is it? No. Subtly fuller… Good._

_I'm sure about the dress though, right? Yes. Navy blue. Brings out my eyes. Not too fancy, but also sexy. And on the internet it said blue stands for femininity (good, as I don't want to seem masculine…unless he's gay…? Ok, that's totally over thinking it, Lorelai) and fidelity. Which totally says commitment. Or 'garter belt.' Either one. But whatever, I'm glad I didn't wear the red dress because it said red makes people hungry…and I don't want him to be thinking of fajitas while we're kissing, he might drool…Ew! Must promise myself never to think of that again…I'm nervous. Nervous, nervous, nervous. Can't believe I actually looked up colors on the internet so I could pick the color dress I'm wearing…that's so…spinster-ish…but not going to go into that right now, right?_

"Oh, hi, Luke," Lorelai said as he entered her room, smiling anxiously, and hiding her eyeliner behind her back. "I see you've just completely ignored the conversation we had two minutes ago." He just sort of half-smiled and raised his eyebrows. He looked really, really nice- all dressed up in the clothes she'd bought him that time four years ago. She couldn't help but let her eyes linger on his body for a moment and let her mind drift to dreamland, where Luke awaited her suntanning on a beach in Brazil, with one of his burgers on the grill. They were married, of course. And she was wearing a really fabulous bathing suit, and Luke was rubbing lotion on-

"You ready?" He resisted the urge to wipe his already sweating hands on his coat. He just put them behind his back.

She zapped back into verbal sparring mode. "I mean, really. What if I was completely naked?" Gracefully, she attempted to put the eyeliner back on her armoire while actually knocking over her entire makeup bag on to the floor. She smiled in a 'oh, you know me' kind of way and knelt down. He crouched to help her, starting to buzz with the feeling he got whenever he was within five feet of her.

"Wouldn't your door be closed if you were completely naked? Or at least you would've shut it as I walked up here." _I've seen you naked before_. On that thought, Luke started running his hand anxiously through his hair, hoping desperately he wasn't blushing with the revealing images that were now flitting in his brain.

"But what if I had a heart attack or something while you were coming up the stairs? I would've dropped dead and I'd just be lying on my bedroom floor, completely naked. And you'd see me." She grabbed her bubble gum Lip Smackers before he could see it.

"Wouldn't you be more concerned with staying alive than me seeing you naked if you- improbably, by the way- dropped dead of a heart attack?" They put all of her make-up into the bag again and got up.

"But…You said it yourself! All these years! I drink way too much coffee, eat way too much red meat. According to you, I'm like seventy years old internally. I may be Princess Leia on the outside, minus the very uncalled for head…buns…and the whole sleeping with my brother thing, but inside I'm Yoda. Old and wrinkly and…not male…_that_ would be weird…" She shook her head.

"Even so. You're probably not going to die anytime soon. Although, if you only cut back on your beef consumption…make it one burger a day, maybe…"

"Luke." Lorelai smiled condescendingly.

"Nine cups of coffee instead of ten?" Their familiar banter relaxed him, slightly.

"Yes, and _then I'm going all soy_."

"You're crazy," he said gruffly, beginning to walk towards her bedroom door.

"Some would call it charming." She grinned at him brightly.

"Should we go?" He tried to ignore his urge to immediately close the space between them, and shuffled outside into the hallway.

"Only if you promise not to make me eat any vitamins," she said, her hand brushing him on the arm. The feeling it gave both of them weirded them out. She removed her hand.

"And risk ending up in the hospital with one of my fingers chewed off? Uh, no." He tried not to let his voice crack with nervousness. He failed.

"Then yeah…" she did a mental checklist again and smoothed her hair down, taking a deep breath. "Let's go. Since you refuse to let me completely primp. I feel travestied. Really."_ I really hope, Luke, that you're going to address what happened or I might just smash a pie on your face. This is one of those moments. They're few and far between, my friend, but they do stand out._

They got in his truck outside- he did the awkward guy thing where he opened her side before getting into the driver's seat, which she'd never really got because girls have perfectly good arms, too. But whatever. No one spoke for a straight three minutes in the car, or made a noise, except for an occasional escaped strangled sigh from Lorelai.

" 'You look beautiful, Lorelai,'" she said in a deep voice. " 'Even though I didn't give you enough primping time. Sorry about that, of course. I plan to repay you by acting as your slave for the next three months. It starts now. I'll be feeding you, carrying you, bathing you-'"

"What are you doing?" Luke interrupted.

"Well, Luke, obviously you can't handle the whole 'opening mouth and making noises' concept on your own, so I'm doing it for you."

"Right, right. And you _do_ realize that what you say to yourself does in no way reflect what I would be saying to you if I _did_ speak?" He jolted in his seat when she mindlessly put her hand on his thigh, near his pocket.

"You know, I'm officially in a part of my brain where it's hard to understand any logical concept. So I don't know. Ask again when I'm back in full working mode." Luke half- smiled at her, and Lorelai pouted. She removed her hand. It was a move that filled him with mixed feelings.

"You do look nice tonight." Lorelai's pout deepened but when Luke looked back at the road again she smiled.

"You look beautiful, too, Luke."

She noticed, then, that they were parking. He opened the door for her again. She awkwardly thanked him and took his hand. She couldn't help but notice that both of them were sweating a little bit._ Antiperspirant for your hands- now there's an idea._

It was only when they got inside that she noticed where they were- it was where they'd had their first date. She remembered everything about that night- the really long back of the menus, Maisy and Buddy, the history of the place- it used to be a whorehouse. And the horoscope.

_I'm all in._

Lorelai's stomach did a pirouette when she saw a candle and a 'Reserved' sign waiting for them at the very same table they'd dined at nearly a year ago.

"Luke…" she looked at him and sat down, sorry, for some reason, that she had to release his hand. "Wow, it's…all the same."

"Yeah, except for the menus. A few customers actually began to cry after reading them, and that put a damper on the whorehouse feeling to this place. So they got it abridged."

"Oh," she said, forcing a nervous laugh, but her heart was pounding viciously. "Good. It was really long."

"Yeah, it was really long."

They both paused for a long time. Luke was shuffling in his seat and Lorelai was resisting the urge to make her breadstick come to life.

"So…" he said.

"Yep. So…" She laughed again, fingering her butter knife. She felt something weird and fluttery in every nerve of her body that she hadn't felt in the car.

"Have you talked to Rory?" He asked, seriously. It wasn't a small talk-ish question. Her flutteriness ceased immediately, and she sighed, trying not to let her face or voice show what she was feeling.

"Briefly. On the phone- on Sunday. I wanted to tell you, actually- she's not at my parents' house anymore," Lorelai replied, as casually as was possible.

"What- Lorelai- Wh-why?" he sputtered.

"She left a note. Something about how we were infringing on her ability to think about herself."

"Oh, my god…Where is she? Do you know? Is she ok?" He leaned forward in his seat.

"She's fine. She's beating about ten other people in the 'People I most want to evilly torture with cutlery' list I have written down somewhere - but she's fine. Didn't sound like she was dead or in danger of being dead within the next year on the phone. Or at least I know she hasn't joined any cults." Their conversation had told her at least that meager fact.

"But… where is she?"

"She didn't say in the note. But I have an inkling." She looked at Luke across the table, hoping he would get what she meant without her having to say it out loud, because that, of course, would make it true. Understanding, as expected, flickered on his face.

"Oh, no." _Why? She knew it was going to hurt Lorelai. Hurt me._

"Yeah. That was pretty much my reaction."

Luke looked at her, noticing a few very subtle lines around her bright eyes that had never been there before. They weren't noticeable unless you observed her for awhile, perhaps saw before and after pictures. But Luke had memorized her face, every square millimeter of it- in all of its phases. Elated, surprised, disappointed, content, confused, angry, sad, nutty, enthused, about to crack a joke, about to say 'dirty', and that sweet, sad look she got whenever she had to talk to Rory about something that bugged her or talk to Rory about something that bugged Rory. Here he saw a mix and something strange and raw he'd never seen in her eyes. It was helplessness. Lorelai wasn't helpless, to say the least. He couldn't imagine a situation in which she could be considered helpless. Except… maybe… this one.

"When did this happen again?" He locked her into a gaze, wanting to melt away that feeling that showed so much at this moment, as if all of the fakeness she'd carried around the past five or so days was finally beginning to fade, in this rare moment of vulnerability. Vulnerable; that was another thing Lorelai was not.

"Oh…I heard about it on Sunday morning from my mother. Completely freaked out, as usual…apparently she left Saturday afternoon." She broke his gaze suddenly, after saying that, suddenly conscious of what her face was probably revealing.

"Oh. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were…out on an errand. For three days." He grunted. "Darn long errand, eh, Luke?" She said pointedly, waggling her eyebrows.

"Oh. Right. I was." He pretended to be reading his menu carefully, averting the question she wanted to ask -'what errand?' He didn't want to answer that question, not right now. "You're sure she's fine?"

"Look, I really don't feel like talking about this. It's a date, right? We're supposed to be getting drunk and waltzing, and I don't know, making fun of waiters, not talk about daughters or anything overly…realistic."

"Sorry. I just…Rory, she's so young, and right now she's going through this weird phase. You _know_ I think she's being stupid."

"Yeah. I know. It's okay." She paused, too, and bit her lip, to look at her menu, but looked up again quickly, the silence annoying her as it usually did. "I'm sorry, it's been a while…when is someone going to serve us?"

"Oh, I think they're bringing our food out now."

"But- we haven't ordered yet." She gestured at both of their menus.

"I told them what we wanted. I came here…last week. They insisted I did it, said something like a 'romantic date must be planned.' Which I find crazy, at least to this extent, but… so I reserved this table and they asked me what you wanted. It wasn't hard to guess." He smiled at her.

She was flattered, and the flutteriness of her nerves returned to save her from a dark Rory-induced mood. "Lucas Danes. You are one classy gentleman and a damn good date. Remind me to give you lap dances more often."

"Yeah…I figured that would cancel out the fact this place used to be a whorehouse."

"No, no. That's what I love about this place. The whole idea that at some point, a half-naked woman with tassels might have been servicing a young hopeful at this very spot. It gives me hope."

"Don't be gross."

At that moment, their food decided to arrive. For Lorelai- it was the biggest cheeseburger she'd ever seen, just the way she liked it, with fries. Although sitting next to the fries was a little bowl of fruit. She raised her eyebrows at Luke and he shrugged innocently.

Luke got something resembling pasta only it had mushy green stuff and peas on it, with a bowl of fruit on the side. She wrinkled her nose at it.

"Luke, what the hell is that?" She pointed at the green mushy stuff accusingly.

"Pesto."

"Like…Termites? Roaches? Mr. Bob's Exterminator Service?"

"No. Pesto. Want some?" He dangled a forkful of it in front of her face.

"Uh, no, I'll keep my stomach from regurgitating itself, thank you very much."

He ate his pesto, she ate her burger. He ate his fruit, she ate her fries and nibbled at the end of a grape. She drank her champagne, he drank his beer. The whole eating process took about twenty minutes. Occasionally they'd smile at each other. She was buzzing with anticipation. Of what, she wasn't sure. But she had a feeling, gnawing at her heart and brain. It wasn't a bad feeling.

"Want to go?" Luke asked, when they were done.

"Don't you have to….? Luke. You already paid?"

"Seemed pointless not to, as I knew exactly what we were getting. Plus I'd just gone to the bank."

"Convenient." _Go away, butterflies…_

"I thought so."

"You didn't have to do this…" She gestured to her now-empty plate, the candles, the reserved sign, his nice outfit.

"I know. I wanted to. Make this… special."

"Special. It's a word like 'fun' and 'cute' that I know you find so hard to muster out."

"You underestimate my abilities. But yes, you're right…I don't even have 'specials' in the diner to accommodate my weaknesses. Well, that, and Taylor would love it if I had 'specials.' I'd _hate_ to please him."

"I'd hate it, too. Annoying Taylor happens to be one of my hobbies. Right there in between eating and throwing fries at people. But I don't hate _this_ kind of special."

She glowed at him, with her eyes and mouth, the look and Rory forgotten, and he glowed right back. The space between them suddenly sizzled with what they both wanted, what they were both willing to give. Silence fell around them, the chatter and light background music of this used-to-be-whorehouse stopped for them. They were having a moment. Maybe the moment of a lifetime.

"It's not bad," he said hoarsely. They looked at each other for another long moment. Lorelai opened her mouth, wanting so badly to bring up her proposal, get him talking about it, ask him again if it was necessary. Because she was so, so sure it was what she wanted. She felt it now as strongly as she had that moment six days ago. Before she could say a word, though, Luke got up, and put a thick wad of one-dollar bills on the table to tip the waiter.

"Where are we going?" She stood up and grinned at him.

"Back to Stars Hollow."

"Oh…We're…going home already?" She didn't want to admit it, but she was disappointed. She thought maybe…she didn't know what she thought. But it had been a short date. A really short, really good date. She didn't want it to end. And, of course, they hadn't really talked yet, and she needed an answer, so…

"No. Just back to Stars Hollow. For dessert."

"For _dessert_. Really." The urge to talk disintegrated immediately. _Maybe after dessert. Maybe during dessert. There is time._ She ignored the little voice in her head that was telling her she was procrastinating. That she was afraid of what he would say.

"Yes. A special…cute…fun…dessert." She laughed. He loved it when she laughed, especially when she laughed because of him. Not _at_ him, obviously, but…

"Well, I've got to tell you, Luke, this date is really not sucking. The lap dance offer still stands."

"I may take you up on that."

"Luke, you _dirty_ boy." She pouted.

"Alright, back to the Hollow. This whorehouse vibe is not doing your already marginal brain a bit of good." He took her arm again, and they went back to the truck.

"Ooh, look who just said the word 'vibe.'" She giggled. She felt giddy.

* * *

Rory lay on top of her bed, a bit surprised at how her room hadn't changed at all since she'd gone to Yale. It was the same. She thought back to standing outside of Harvard. She was having déjà vu- this room, like Harvard, was yet another reflection of what she had been, and showed her what she now was. She tried to ignore the insistent pang in her gut that she was doing the wrong thing here. She had tried to learn to trust her gut, because if her brain and heart got too involved, she tended to over think things. Let moments pass before she had a chance to say what she wanted to say or do what she wanted to do. Her gut had led her to a lot of places over the past year. She had slept with Dean because of her gut. She had stolen a yacht because of her gut. She'd quit Yale because of her gut. She'd gone to her father because of her gut. Her gut had done a lot of damage, frankly. So now, maybe, she decided, it was time to let her brain and heart interfere.

She needed someone. She wasn't as independent as she wanted to be. Living with Lorelai for most of her life had made her that way- both independent (she _could_ take care of herself) but dependent on her mother, because Lorelai was always there to cushion a fall or lead her in some direction. And her mother had never, ever left her on her own unless she thought it was right for Rory. That was, in fact, the main thing Lorelai kept in mind for everything- whether or not it was right for _Rory_.

She couldn't go to her father, of course. He wasn't the person she needed. He tried, so hard, to be everything he seemed to be, but he never quite made the cut. And Emily and Richard- they didn't understand her. They were to caught up in what long-standing tradition and society told them what was right to really understand what was right.

Lorelai understood her, more than any other person in the world, and she understood what was right. She needed to know, past everything, what she wanted to do with her life. She needed to talk. She didn't want to just confer with herself- that hadn't done much good in the past days, and she wasn't exactly having any revelations. When she looked at a restaurant, she didn't have an overwhelming urge to become a chef. The idea was actually laughable. When she passed a Law Office, she wasn't impelled to become a lawyer.

So now, here she was. In her room, with so many memories in it, with her past so imminent in it she wanted to recapture every single one of them in a moment. It made her sad. Her eyes filled, making her glance at her clock blurry. It was 8:30 P.M.- where was Lorelai?

She'd spent the past three days doing nothing- but at least the 'nothing' came with a routine. She'd get up at around noon, every day, always eating two bowls of Oreo O's. She'd get dressed, wonder about what she was going to do that day, wonder where Christopher was, really, (he always left a short note explaining he was at work, or at lunch, or something) and wonder where he left Gigi every day. Every day she'd walk and her feet would lead her to the same place. The bus.

She'd board, and then convince herself she was surprised when it always took her to the same place- Harvard. She'd stand outside of the entryway for five minutes, simply staring, and then get coffee at that kiosk. She'd read on one of the benches for about two hours, and then board a bus going in the same direction, and get off at a random stop. The first time, it was in front of a mall, where she took three hours to buy a sweater. The next time, it was in front of a random rundown apartment building, where she walked two blocks until she found a café, where she had a sandwich. Yesterday she'd just stayed until it made all of its stops and ended up at Harvard again. And today, she'd gone on the wrong bus. She'd stopped two blocks away from her dad's place. It was then and there that she made the first decision she'd made since Friday- she wasn't going to float anymore.

She was going to make a decision. A solid, hard decision. And contrary to what she had believed, being on her own wasn't going to make it for her. Maybe she needed arguments. Maybe she needed another person's reasons. Maybe she needed what she'd run away from.

She turned over, and drifting off into a tear-induced sleep, thanked god once again that her mother still kept that key in the ceramic frog.

* * *

"I've gotta say, Luke, your pie definitely tastes better outside."

"Really?" Luke took the blanket on their laps and made sure it was covering both of them.

"Yeah," she said, closing her eyes and savoring the sweet cherry filling and soft crust that was Luke's pie. "In fact, I'm going to have to insist on getting take-out now. It makes me wonder what I've missed out on for all these years. So young. So naïve. Thinking that pie was meant to be eaten inside, where it's warm. Where I can be sure dirt isn't going to ruin my shoes or get on my skirt. Boy, was _I_ wrong." She had another bite.

"Mmmmmm. Luke…are you seriously not going to eat this pie? This is not normal pie, my friend. This is _super_ pie. This pie is the _Wonder Woman_ of pies. In fact, it's Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Spiderman combined. No other normal, mealy pie can compare to this pie. I mean, after eating this, I will feel personally _degraded_ if I have another bite of another pie having known that somewhere in my stomach, or sewer system, there exists a pie this extraordinary. I may have to go on freaking Prozac. And won't you feel bad knowing it's your fault, making this pie, giving it to me, with no expectations of its greatness." She shoveled a forkful into her mouth. Luke laughed.

"Yeah, unfortunately for me, I know what goes into it. Enough butter to give a small European country heart attacks. And diabetes. And…countless other diseases that even I don't want to mention while you're eating that."

"I appreciate it."

Luke grunted in response. It was a manly grunt, but he looked at her eating his pie with eyes that seemed softer. He loved seeing her face contort into her weird range of expressions- now, while she was eating, it was ecstasy. She actually moaned as she chewed the final piece of crust, keeping her eyes closed a few seconds after swallowing. It was in this moment that she made a decision that she wouldn't let herself back out of. She turned to Luke, an oddly serene look on her face.

"Luke, why won't you answer me?"

Suddenly his body felt very warm and tingly. His dry mouth opened slightly, and his mind refused to let any thoughts resembling sensible in its midst.

"I- Lorelai, I-"

"I've been waiting for six days. Is it because you think I don't want it? That it was just a desperate tactic to end your rant? It wasn't. Because I do want it. I really do. I know I haven't got the greatest commitment track record. You, of all people, should know- you've known me for what I consider the most important part of my life. But, Luke, this is different. I feel it. And I hope you feel it, too, otherwise I'm making a complete fool out of myself right now. Because I was right when I was rambling about my shoes and god knows what else. You are the one person who will always be there for me. Regardless of anything. Regardless of anyone. You were the person I went to last Friday night, and it wasn't because of your really great coffee. Or pie- although this is some damn good pie. Or burgers, or fries. Although, you do feed me. And for that I am grateful, because otherwise I'd probably live off of stale pop-tarts and Al's, and I'd probably be dead…or hospitalized…by now…" She paused to scrape some cherry filling off of her plate with her fork.

"I…" Luke started, but Lorelai interrupted.

"It's because…" she sighed, closed her eyes, and licked her fork, took the plunge- "I love you."

Luke was still gaping at her, his courage, the courage he'd had last Friday night when he'd told her he loved her, too, lost. A torpedo of emotions exploded in his body, leaving him speechless and incapable of movement. A random voice in his head was urging his arm to reach into his right hand pants pocket and retrieve the box that was lying there, burning like a coal, but his arm wouldn't listen. He merely absorbed the moment. Why did he deserve this? Why did he deserve this beautiful woman to tell him that he was all these amazing things and that she loved him? It was too much for him to take.

"I bought a house," he blurted out.

Lorelai opened her eyes and looked at him. "What?"

"I bought a house. The Twickham house."

"Luke…What?"

"I bought a house last week, with the old guys in a steam room, and I saw Kirk's chest…thing, and I bought a house. But now I don't have it anymore. Damnit, I need to talk to Taylor…! He's probably asleep by now…stupid…cardigan man…always goes to bed at nine…" He got up and started to walk very quickly in the direction of Taylor's house.

"Luke! Luke, talk to me." Lorelai got up and began to jog after him.

"I bought a house. The Twickham house. I need to talk to Taylor," he repeated, looking back at her.

"So I've heard. Why did you buy a house?"

Luke stopped and looked at her, as if just realizing he had been speaking to her.

"For us," he said breathlessly. They locked into a gaze.

"Us…as in…you and me?" Lorelai said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He nodded slowly, his face still grim. _Need to talk to Taylor…_ She smiled slightly.

"Luke, does this mean…I mean…does this buying a house thing…Does it mean…?" she babbled on, seemingly incapable of stringing together a real sentence, and crossed her arms.

If it had been a cartoon, a light bulb would've flashed above Luke's head. Realistically, his brain began to work again, and that urgent voice in his head telling him to reach inside his pocket finally got through the silent stubbornness in a move that was just as symbolic as that metaphoric light bulb. He knelt down in front of her, the old gruff Luke-voice in Luke insisting that this was corny, and distinctly chick-flickish and if it were a movie 'Time After Time' would be playing, or some other random corny eighties song that he didn't want to know about, and that his reputation as a gruff burger-flipping monosyllable man would be ruined hereafter. But that un-Lukeish voice was insisting he pull that box out and say something extremely corny to the now- gaping woman who was in front of him.

He decided, for only about the fifth time in his life, to listen to that voice.

"Lorelai…will you marry me?"

* * *

**GASP!** Please review. I will love you forever. Sorry for reusing the Anne Heche reference. Couldn't help it. 


	6. The Incredible Screaming Lorelais

A/N: Hey gals. And guys. Assuming there are guys reading this. Who knows? I mean, there might very well be. But I think the majority of you are girls. Not gals. 'Cause that's what my grandma says. And I'm just way too young to accept the pearls.

I'm BACK FROM GREECE! Actually, I came back five days ago. But then I read Harry Potter 6...And it took me a few days to get over that...Yeah, that's right, I wallowed over a Harry Potter book, so shoot me. And then I spent the next few days watching Gilmore episode after Gilmore episode, having remained abstinent for so long...I do so hate it when my love and I are torn apart... And then I watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, then spent the next day laughing my ass off. You know what? I don't think you care. Alright, moving on.

**Muffin Is Injured**: Clydette, meet your new little sister, Klydetta. Yeah, that's right, I named your new review Klydetta and MIKA, YOU STUPID DOG, STOP JUMPING ON ME! Sorry, she was, um, jumping on me. She's just too hyper. She needs to be tranquilized, or I need a spray bottle...ARGH! STOPPIT! You realize, by the way, that I'm not talking about Clydette or Klydetta, right? Good.Ok, she's gone now...ANYWAY. Yourenthusiasm for rantaciousness is just astounding. You deserve a bow, like at the county state fair or something. 'Clydette' IS a really great name for it. I'm allowed that bit of self-esteem, aren't I? That I'm extremely good at naming things? And we ARE awesome. After we float around with the angels singing holy psalms, we should start join together and start a rambling cult...no, sorry, cults are freaky...group! Yes, a rambling group, in which we knock on random people's houses and then just begin talking about things like how grass is multi-colored or why in the hell the backstreet boys are starting up again. Except I know absolutely nothing about either subject and would have to improvise it, and...Alright, I'll work on that concept. Oh yeah, there's also that little problem about how we don't actually know each other. I'm sure there's a way to get around it. I laughed out loud every time youmentioned the popping thesaurus and the'gn' thing. It made me think of the different words that startwith 'gn'. Like 'gnu'and 'gnarled' and...I'm out.

I love it when Rory talks about the round pies...That's the best moment in the pilot, or at least it's the best moment with Rory in the pilot...Hm, I need to watch that one again...AND YOU GET TWO RUSSIANS? What's up with that? Can I have one? I wish I knew how to say 'A peacock is eating my leg' in Russian. Can ya teach me, next review, even if you absolutely hate this chapter? Hm, I have the oddest feeling I'm reviewing your review. Time to move on to other people. Yeah, you're special, but you're also in Europe, which for now puts a damper on your specialness. In Europe, you're just no goodto me.You're crushed! I know. I'll get the tourniquet.

Oh, by the way, you'll get an answer, FINALLY, from this one. I like answered proposals, too. I mean, if I ever ask someone to marry me, I would really prefer it if they said something. 'Yes', particularly,if I like them.

**bloodymary2**: Ha! She compliments me again! You said that you felt like you were in Lorelai's head. How does that feel? I remember in the second season when Lorelai walks into Luke's really messy apartment and says, "Huh, this is always how I imagined the interior of my head would look like." Lorelai actually has a place on my shoulder. She's the devil who urges me to go up to random people and use bad catch phrases or pinch peoples butts. Sometimes I listen to her...Sometimes I ignore her...This makes me sound insane. But it's true. I like how you like I am handling the 'Rory' Situation. Once again, I hope I live up to your expectations, even your supressed expectations. I love writing andI lovegetting reviews, especially positive ones (what kind of hack enjoys being negatively criticized?) But it makes me nervous to think that the same people who love me today could hate me tomorrow. Iguess it's a trade-off, with the power you have as a ff dot net writer. That makes me sound wimpy. Perhaps I am. MaybeI LIKE being wimpy. Oh, and to answer your question, I wasNOT a drama-queen ten-year-old. Quite the opposite. I was the kind of ten year old who spent her daysvery, very quietly, staring at hershoes, mostly reading. I read alot.I was just very angsty and thought alot (hence the penname), and had a small group of friends who spoke in inordinately large vocabularies (that was mostly me) and exchanged bits of angst and wrote lots of dark poetry. And we had group emotionalbreakdowns. But it's not likewe ever complained to our parents; it was just amongst ourselves.I think it was just to create drama, since we weren't at all naturally dramatic. Yeah, I'm weird likethat.

**epona9009**: You said that you were surprised no one questioned Lorelai about not knowing where Luke was. I'm assuming you mean in theone hundred and firstepisode when everyone gives Lorelai shocked looks when she asks people where Luke is. Well, just assume she was at the Inn alot, and had enough sense not to ask people where Luke was. Right. Sure. I didn't even think about that! I wonder if i should've? Anyway, don't be annoyed, you'll get your answer this chapter. Glad you loved the last one. Hey, every one seems to think I'm brilliant! Do you realize how great this is? And don't worry, I'm sure they'll put Luke and Lorelai together. Come on, how couldn't they, after all the emotional pain we've gone through the first four seasons? And then when they broke up? It would just be wrong.

**candlewick866**: That's two people I've made sputter with my genius. You and Muffin. Glad to know I've got another person thinking I'm amazingly talented. Just, please, tell my parents that? And my sister? Announce it on the P.A. at my school? It couldn't hurt. Although people might think I'm even more crazy. And, hey, you reviewed this yesterday! Aren't you glad to get another chapter just one day later? It's like I'm doing this just for you. And hey, missy, you are on the gilmore girls section of fanfiction. There are plenty of people in this area who share our talent of talking about absolutely nothing for ages until someone slaps us. Don't worry about your name. It's not me who you've got to worry about, it's the other reviewers. But seeing as how they don't even have a general idea of where you live, you should be fine. Joss Wheden has something to do with Buffy and the Vampire Slayer. He's the creator, isn't he? Ha! I knew that! I like that show, except in the last season when my sister started watching it and it came on the same time as gilmore girls and since she's much stronger I had to spend several hours i could've been watching Jess gallavanting around in his uber-tight clothing sulking in my room in emotional pain. As for the De-ja-ing of that Vu, it has already been Deja-ed, this is its second Deja. Poor Vu, he's been Deja-ed twice. Narharharhar, that's funny. To me.

Thanks also to **LukeNlorelaifan**, **goldenwillow**, **brelaine**,**shamelessOne**, **ultimategilmoregirl**, **Ace's Buddy** (ha! you reviewed all five chapters! i love you! and why didn't my A have a plus? I guess i can just resurrect one with my new wand),**egbert**, **VeroSNM**,**Lauren**, and **ProFfeSseR**. I love you all dearly. Unless you wish not to be loved. In which case,I don't.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gilmore Girls.**

And so begins a slightly shorter, slightly more angsty, slightly more unrambling chapter. Enjoy. At least don't gag.

* * *

It was both simple and complicated- what Luke and Lorelai had.

Complicated, because of the attraction they'd had that had gone beyond their friendship at one point- the one they'd denied through various chances to go beyond, moments where courage and chance-taking was required and both had none.

Complicated, because that was muddled with family expectations and unreasonable reasons (they were ignored, but they were _there_), and a general sense of 'what if?' because both had different paths to go down; there were forks in the road and wooings and different people who both at one point loved and were going to spend the rest of their lives with…maybe.

There was that, and there was also simple insecurities and fear because what they'd had as friends was good. It was good enough, good enough to not want to be ruined by single moments where precautions and reasons were not made- a field Lorelai especially was deeply experienced in.

But beyond that, what they had was simple. It wasn't that they had a lot in common- it was that what they did have fit, somehow, corresponded. A love for coffee and great skill in making it…Witty retorts from both and mutual acceptance. There was also the inexcusable comfort they felt in each other's presence. It wasn't that their banter was predictable- it wasn't that they could immediately assess what the other was going to say, it was knowing that what the other was going to say would make a difference. It was that they cared. It was that even when Lorelai didn't have another person in the world, Luke would be there and he could say the same about Lorelai. That, above everything else, was simple. And hard to find, and nice, after Lorelai's rigid relationship with her parents, and the loneliness Luke felt during his life. Despite how many times he explained 'he was a natural loner.'

_But I've changed all that, haven't I, Lucas._

Lorelai lay stick-straight in bed, her hands curled over mingled sheets and comforter straight up to her chin. Her head was turned, admiring the scruffy curve of Luke's sleeping face. He was breathing deeply, so deeply that his breath somehow reached the front tuft of his hair and it fluttered softly and continuously with the rising of his chest.

_He doesn't snore._

She smiled when she realized she'd never noticed that.

_All those nights_…

_Dirty_.

_All that noise-making_…

_Dirty!_

_AndI never truly appreciated the only time he was silent_…

_DIRTY!_

She stifled a guffaw and yawned contentedly instead. Unconsciously, her hand reached up to smooth his hair back. She paused as her finger glimmered softly in the darkness.

It wasn't '…Lorelai's ring glittered in the mingled moonlight, ricocheting on to her bright eyes and causing her heart to beat even more deeply…', it was the red light from Luke's alarm clock that made her new ring shine- an alarm clock that now screamed 3:47 a.m. in a slightly ominous way. Truly, it was the Darth Vader of alarm clocks. But it did create a new, intense feeling in her, the same one she'd experienced six hours ago. After Luke's proclamation 'I bought a house,' made her admittedly slightly confused, very frustrated, and just a little bit worried, the rush of happiness after he'd done exactly the thing she'd wanted him to do was heartwarming. The obliterated sadness of everything she'd experienced- her failed relationship with her parents- gone. The Rory aftermath- gone. The only thing she could see was that she had finally, after a few weeks of pure disappointment, gotten what she really wanted. And needed.

He'd looked at her, kneeling down… It was hard to explain, even to herself, what she felt when he'd looked at her like that. It was the most genuine she'd seen Luke's face, when Luke was generally so hidden behind this need to be gruff. And that look, more than what he'd said after it, was what caused the flush of tingling happiness to spread from the center of her body to her limbs- like she had been in black and white before, and only now was she realizing what it meant to live in color.

"_Lorelai, will you marry me?_" He'd asked, his eyes facing hers directly, holding, still, that expression of absolute warmth. It seemed like a ray from the heavens was shining on his face when he said it, like all of the darkness of the night around them and the disappearing taste of pie in her mouth was gone. Then she'd realized it was a streetlight. But somehow, that seemed even more poetic.

In moments like these, moments she knew she'd never have again, she lingered, because if she didn't she would regret not having done so later. So they'd stayed like that for two or three long wonderful, moments, moments in which it seemed like they had both suddenly realized how alike their blue eyes really were. Then Lorelai had knelt down in front of him, remembering a thought she'd had years ago that the whole kneeling-will-you-marry-me concept was just so guys could get a look up their respective girlfriend's skirts. Then she'd pushed his hair back, a glimpse of a thought asking herself, _why doesn't he just go without the hat?_

She'd answered his question as near his mouth as she could go without actually touching it, so that her warm breath touched his lips between her completely welcome consonants of acceptance.

"_Yes_," she'd said, still holding his gaze. Because he hadn't answered her proposal, but she sure as hell was going to answer his, no matter how miffed she was. And then the ring…oh, the ring. It was better than Max's, better than the one she'd always imagined (a little bit too hopefully) Johnny Depp was going to surprise her with when he declared his love for her in several recurring dreams that were extremely interesting, especially for her.

That was six hours ago. Now, at nearly four in the morning, the buzz remained. She wondered if everyone who was engaged walked around like this, or if someone had just slipped drugs into her coffee… squirmy, but also content… Like you could happily save the world from all occurring wildfires in a swoop, but also like you would be even more blissful if you just stayed right where you were.

It wasn't corny at all to her. It was…magical. Although saying it in exactly those words would be something reserved for repetition in her own messy little head, at the risk of ruining her famed sarcastic and very unsentimental edge.

After the initial rush, she'd gotten a faint feminist thought- _what's so wrong with answering _my_ proposal? Eh, Luke?_ That lasted as about thirty seconds of growing angst, but eventually fluttered away. Was it worth an argument- even a cutesy one?

And now, she was buzzing still with that feeling. She felt like she'd just drunk nine espresso shots in the space of two minutes. It wasn't bad.  
She turned around in her position, so she was facing her dinerman. _Her_ dinerman.

_"Luke?" _She prodded him gently in the nose.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm…"

"Luke, honey, wake up."

"Mmmmmmmmm."

"Stop it. You're starting to sound like Jackson. Which in a weird way makes it seem like we're both cheating with him which is wrong on a great number of levels, starting with the fact he's married and we're engaged and ending somewhere in another dimension. I do not want to spend my time explaining them to you. So, please, wake up and say something intelligible."

Without opening his eyes, Luke pointed drunkenly out the window.

"Moon. Stars. Dark," he grunted.

"I. Are. Baboon." She prodded him again.

"Mmmmm…You're annoying…"

"I thought we went over this already, Luke. I'm not annoying; I'm witty, charming, beautiful, with an attractive bosom and extraordinarily great-smelling hair. I'm also very modest and only know these things because my humble escort spends his days staring at my picture and repeating them."

He opened his eyes regretfully and faced her. "Whaddya want."

"I just wanted to share something with you," she whispered, smiling.

"Share something with me. Really." He rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, share. Offer you half a Popsicle, if you will."

"Can't refuse an offer like that." He started to grin.

"I…Just wanted to tell you…"

"You mean share."

"Yeah, I just wanted to share with you…that I am getting married." God, it felt nice to say and hear that.

"Figured you were." He fingered his shirt.

"Really?" Her smile brightened. "Why?"

"You know…the guy…seemed really nice…when I met him. Handsome. Intelligent. Worthy of your charms."

She smiled at him genuinely. "I'm glad you think so."

"Did you set a date?"

"Nah, not yet. Pretty soon, though."

"And I'm invited?"

"I'll have to think about that…you might, after all, just steal my fiancé from me. You _really_ seem to like him." Her grin curved into a smirk.

"Heard he's got a great butt, too." Luke yawned.

There was a pause. Lorelai swallowed.

"And you know what?" she asked, softly this time.

"What?" He murmured, starting to drift back into sleep.

"We've decided. We're not gonna have a coupon drawer." He grinned, though his eyes were closed.

She kissed him gently on the forehead, to a consenting murmur on his part, and beamed back at the shadowy ceiling yet again, with the most wonderful feeling that things were beginning to float, like the terminal calm after a storm, to their rightful places.

* * *

"Wake up!" Luke whispered into Lorelai's ear. She groaned. He rolled his eyes. 

"Wake up, Lorelai."

"Ummmmmmmmm go away…" She swatted him away.

"Your phone is going off." Sure enough, the Rocky Horror Picture Show's 'Time Warp' was being annoyingly copied in a very high-pitched ringtone, and it was going off insistently. It was seven in the morning.

"Don't care. Need to stay pretty." She swatted him away with more gusto.

"_You _were the one who woke me up at four in the morning. What about my prettiness?" He bounced onto the bed, if it were possible for Luke Danes to 'bounce' and put her cell phone next to her on a pillow.

"You were gonna wake up in forty five minutes anyway. Besides, you woke me up in the first place. You snore too loud." _Ha. Complete lie._

'..._drive you insa-a-a-a-ane_...'

"I do _not_ snore!"_ If I snored, she would have already mocked me about it, endlessly, with more than twenty references. Don't know there are more than twenty 'Luke snores' references in this world, but she would find them, and use them. Deadly._

"Aw, don't make me prove it using that classic sitcom plot, in which I stalk you with a voice recorder and you thwart me and I never get to do my glory jump over your sleeping body shouting, 'ha, world, see? He does have weird sinuses!'"

'_Let's do the time warp again…_'

"See, you just used a superfluous run-on sentence. You're already awake. Now answer your phone. It's annoying." Her phone was still ringing, insisting on being answered, where Luke had placed it.

'…_the pelvic thrust_…'

Finally, she rolled over and sighed, puffy-eyed and pouting. Luke walked back to the door.

"Where're you going?"

'_Let's do the time warp agaiiin…_'

"Work."

'_And you jump to the left…_'

"Why were you just up here?"

Luke pointed to a tray on the bedside table, where a stack of pancakes, eggs, and a mug of coffee awaited her. Lorelai grinned at him. "My guy. Always anticipating my needs. You've officially compensated waking me up prematurely." She happily took a sip from her full mug.

'…_Time warp agaiiin_…'

"Sure. Just never call me 'your guy' again. Ruins my street cred." He half-smiled and left to her ringing laugh.

Lorelai watched after him, smiling a moment, and then turned to her phone, where 'Time Warp' had just stopped ringing. She took a bite from her eggs, enjoying them, and blissfully forgetting about her phone.

She ate her breakfast as quickly as one who was eating Luke's extremely fluffy pancakes could, and swigged down her coffee speedily, now used to the welcome scalding she always felt as it slithered down her throat and woke her up. She wondered whether she should bother getting dressed into her clothes again. Weren't the dear, gossip-prone citizens of Stars Hollow used to seeing her in Luke's plaid in Luke's diner yet? She knew that she should discuss releasing the fact she and Luke were getting married to the town before actually releasing it…Which was regretful, because she never felt like joining the jolly Riverdance people more than she did now. It was better than Luke's pie. And few things were better than Luke's pie.

_But screw Stars Hollow…I think they can handle me in plaid… You know, I can really see what Luke likes so much about it…_

So she took off her ring (the perfect size) and put it on her right hand.

She pulled on a pair of boxer shorts (plaid) from Luke's drawer (_Ha! A pair of drawers from a drawer…_) and flagrantly disregarded the state of her hair in the mirror. She picked up her tray and stomped downstairs with bare feet.

"Oh Lu-uke! My sweet little something! I need a little sweet little something to put in this wonderful invention called the coffee mug! And what an invention it is! Now I can drink without all the other gazelles pushing me over in the watering hole! Wonderful, I tell you…"

Blank stares met her at the bottom of the stair well. _Nice…Third time this week. Boy, I'm really improving on that whole awkwardness thing, aren't I?_

She just laughed. "Soooo…here we are. You're there, and I'm wearing plaid! Isn't this fun? Now if only you guys were wearing it and we had raccoon hats, we could be swigging down maple syrup and having a lumberjack party."

Their stares went blanker.

She sighed. "Luke? Please?"

Luke came out of the kitchen with two plates of eggs and an amused expression on his face. "You're down."

"Yeah. Coffee ran out." She indicated her mug, putting her breakfast tray down on the back counter.

"Alright. Hold on."

Lorelai gasped. " 'Alright, hold on'? Luke? You do realize that that response implies that you're going to give me coffee? The substance that will eventually make me look old and wither-y? You're going to make this innocent mug a mug of death! You're going to give me my drug of choice and I don't even need to do the pouty eyes to get it from you!"

He set the two plates down in front of their respective customers- Morey and Kirk. They both raised their eyebrows at her attire. Kirk made an unintelligible joke about 'Sacagawea' and 'sausages.' Morey ignored him. Lorelai began to regret not changing.

"Do you want the coffee or not?"

"I do, but the next time you offer me deep-fried Kit-Kat, I'm reassessing our relationship. And your sanity." She gazed at him somberly and extended her mug. He filled it.

"What's with the plaid?"

"It's not like you answer that question when I ask it to you."

"But there's people in the diner."

"Luke, I know that dress I wore last night does my legs great justice, but in order to do that it cuts of all circulation to my lower body. I do not want to end up having to cut my feet off. I'd have to throw away all my shoes. I'd probably become like that chick from 'She's Come Undone,' and I don't want to end up fat."

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk far too much?"

"It's why I don't weigh nine hundred pounds, so I wouldn't be complaining." She smiled seductively at him, and she could see his defenses melting away. She loved that she had that power over him, and she loved that he had that power over her. She leaned in to kiss him. It went on a full thirty seconds before they came up for air.

"That's why all of the listening to me rambling is worth it," she whispered.

"That's gotta be a health code violation," Kirk said accusingly, pointing at the two perpetrators. They ignored him.

"Why don't you go upstairs with your coffee and I'll ask Caesar if he can cover for me in a little while, okay?" Luke breathed.

"What, Luke? He's going to leave us? Caesar's pancakes suck," Kirk complained.

"Shut up, Kirk, Luke's gonna get some," Morey confided. "Don't blame you, buddy!" Lorelai walked back up to Luke's apartment jauntily.

Luke rolled his eyes, trying to appear the old gruff guy he was everyday but an impenetrable happiness cloaked him. He'd hoped, for years, that this moment would come someday, that he would somehow get them here, and finally, here it was… Ruined only slightly by Rory, and the feeling he'd had as Lorelai had excitedly told him about opportunities to 'travel' that was insisting on being remembered in his mind. But he shook that away. Lorelai wouldn't first of all, propose, then accept his proposal, if getting away was all she was going to do anyway. She wouldn't do that. Would she?

* * *

Upstairs, Lorelai lounged blissfully on Luke's unmade bed. It was pretty much her bed, too, now… right? She grinned to herself evilly. _If it's my bed, I can do whatever I want with it…_ She stood up and began jumping, laughing hysterically while doing so. She felt like screaming it out… "I'M GETTING MARRIED!" 

But her urge was interrupted by her cell phone, ringing again. _Damn._ She bounced on her butt to another little girlish giggle, took a quick gulp of coffee, and propped her phone open.

"Hello?" She asked, unwary, into the receiver.

"Lor?" An all-too-familiar voice rang out in her ear.

Lorelai choked on her coffee, spluttering in her mug for a second, then placing her coffee down, wiped her mouth with her plaid sleeve. She breathed in through her nose, closed her eyes, tried to clear her head. She was not ready for this.

"Are you there?" Christopher asked, more sheepishly than he usually would have, on the other end.

"What do you want?" Her voice was calm but icy. Her body suddenly felt frozen.

"No small talk, then? Right to business? Guess I deserve it, Lor." He chuckled genuinely. Lorelai saw through it. She wouldn't go down with his damn chivalry.

"Chris, why are you calling?" She asked, louder, even colder.

"Lor, I'm…"

_Don't say it. _"Chris!" she seethed and grasped Luke's bed with her free hand.

He sighed, finally, and let it out. "Rory's gone…she came over a few days ago, and I'm sorry, I _know _I should've told you. I know you know why she was here. But now she's gone, she left a note.Three words actually. Not including the '_Dad_' and the '_Bye, Rory'_ but…" He said all this in a rushed, mumbling voice.

_Rory and her damn notes._ "Where did she say she went?"

"Home," he replied.

"What?"

"She said she went home."

"Thank you, Christopher, for calling. Say hi to Gigi. I have to go now." Her voice was hard. Her eyes were harder.

"Lor, I-"

_Click._

Lorelai fumed in position for awhile, not knowing exactly at whom she was fuming. Everyone, for screwing up her first moments as an engaged woman- engaged to someone that she really wanted to marry, that is…Herself, for not being able to solve all this with her mastery of convincing or speedy retorts? Christopher, for suddenly making this flitting appearance in her life? Rory, for disappearing? For going to Chris in the first place? She'd known that, when Emily had told her, of course…but this confirmed it. _Home._ Why had Christopher called her, knowing she'd find out eventually, if Rory went home in Stars Hollow. Not eventually; pretty darn quickly. Attention? Did he just want to converse with her for a moment, make it known that he'd had an influence in Rory's life, if only for a few days? If so, then he was vaguely pathetic.

She wondered what to do. Rory was probably waiting for her at her house. But with what? A declaration that she'd made a mistake, or the opposite? There was only one way to find out. It was like in an Indiana Jones movie, in front of an ominous tomb or potential booby trap…"There's only one way to find out." To take the step, that is. Take the chance.

Lorelai was infamous for not directly facing her problems; in fact, she tended to avoid them. Despite her showy confidence and wit and sharp-mindedness. This made her a tiny bit hypocritical, she knew. But she cut herself slack on this one, as she lifted up her mug for another sip of the delicious dark black liquid that was coffee, especially enjoying the welcome heaviness of her new gorgeous ring on her finger, and the way Luke's plaid smelled like him- soap, and this wonderful mixture of fries, burgers, and coffee. The three most alluring scents she knew of.

Slack. She at least deserved that.

Three minutes later, Lorelai numbly put her empty mug down on Luke's bedside table and blankly got dressed in the only un-plaid clothes in Luke's apartment- her blue dress from last night and her coat, which were sprawled on the couch on top of each other. She smiled slightly at that. It was kind of…dirty.

As she prepared to go downstairs, Luke walked through the door. He immediately saw her expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Rory's here."

"Here…you mean _here_ here?"

"Apparently, at our house."

"I thought she was-"

"Well, she's here now, and I have to go talk to her, because I'm the responsible adult," she interrupted quickly.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She sighed. "No, no… I'll come by later, okay?" She kissed him on the mouth, and said, in a hushed voice, "I love you."

It was amazing, she decided, that she could say that now. And truthfully.

"I love you, too," he said, unabashedly. The confidence surprised and pleased Lorelai. "Good luck. And if you need help, call me. Okay?"

She smiled sadly. "Okay."

* * *

Rory sat at the kitchen table, staring at the linoleum, glaring at her watch every other minute as if expecting it to change faster or jump a few minutes each time. Only when she realized that the time had moved forward a mere ten seconds when it seemed like ten minutes did she realize her habit was formulating into something annoyingly obsessive. She pinched herself as she chanced a glance at it one last time. 8:00:01 a.m. Wonderful. 

She was both impatient and apprehensive- wanting Lorelai to return now so as to move on and forget the sordid way things had been going as quickly as possible (all her fault, she would admit) for the past week- but also wary of the screaming/ crying/ fighting match that would be sure to detonate as soon as she walked through that door.

8:03:47. Damn. She mentally kicked herself. Where was she? Luke's was the most likely answer to that question. That, or working at the Inn. But she hadn't come last night- had Lorelai gone straight from Luke's to the Inn? Did that make sense?

She felt, for the oddest reason, like she was going back to Chris again. She had the exact same feelings of self-doubt. They felt photocopied. That same 'this is a choice you have to make now' emotion that clamored through her body most unpleasantly- it wasn't something her usually somewhat timid self was used to, and she'd felt it a lot over the last month.

9:11:05- the front door clicked open, seeming louder than other days. Rory lifted her head bravely from her watch and the kitchen floor. She breathed in shakily and then stood up, respectfully keeping her distance from the doorway leading into the kitchen.

Lorelai seemed to linger especially long in the hallway, taking her time to hang her coat on the rack, pretending to check her hair in the mirror. She, too, let in a deep, gustful breath, knowing full well what was likely in her house at this moment. She looked at her ring for reassurance. Her face was set grimly, now, for what was going to come- an explosion for both mother and daughter. Was this encounter going to loosen or reassure their lost bonds?

"Mom." The sound made Lorelai's lungs and heart jump- although scared, although distinctly Rory-sounding, it seemed vastly different in this particular context. She found she couldn't speak, she couldn't reply. Her voice was gone. But only for a few seconds.

Lorelai strode purposefully into the kitchen, her eyes falling just short of blazing.

"Rory. You're here." Stating the obvious.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm here," she said softly. "I'm sorry." The phrase could have covered such an expanse of things that Lorelai chose to ignore it.

"Why?" Her voice sounded infinitely stronger than she felt. "Rory?"

"Can we talk?"

"Talk," Lorelai repeated, laughing shortly. "Yeah, see, the last time you wanted us to '_talk_', I ended up wanting to fling my cheesecake at you and I haven't got the baking skills, or, frankly, the appetite to conjure up one now. So if you'll kindly pass over that butcher knife."

"I know you're mad."

Lorelai laughed dryly. "Mad? Rory, '_mad_' does not go _quite_ as far as what I've been feeling for the past week! The idea that my daughter, the great white hope of the Gilmore clan, top of her class through Elementary school, Junior high, High school… hell, you beat all the other preschool kids at shoving wads of _clay_ up your nose…the one who makes a pro/con list for everything, the daughter you _know_ I love, decides to pull this stupid Holden Caulfield act for _no_ intelligible reason whatsoever…Yeah, I guess I'd say I'm mad! You're screwing your life up, and mine by extension, and I know I've said this before but I think I need to say it again- this freaking whim is going to lead you nowhere, and you will end up feel even more lost than you do right now!"

Rory felt a feeling resembling anger shake her body. She closed her eyes, and then faced her mother.

"Whatever happened to 'I can do whatever I want to do if it makes me happy?' Maybe Yale wasn't making me happy! Maybe I needed something else to make me happy!"

"Why? Are you happy now? Can you honestly face me and say 'yes, mom, I am perfectly happy right now, in fact, I'm getting the seven dwarves together right now so we can do a communal jig; That's how happy I am'?"

"Well, I wasn't happy in school, either, and not being in school is the only alternative to being _in_ school, isn't it?" Rory spat out.

"WHY?" Lorelai shouted angrily.

"Why what?"

"Why weren't you happy in school? What changed? Rory, you love Yale, or I guess I should say 'loved', for the past two years there's been nothing but Yale sweatshirts and Yale parties and Yale and now? What's changed?"

Rory paused, trying to ignore her mother's furious glare.

"Can we please…just… talk?"

"We _are_ talking, if you'll notice the perfectly understandable noises coming out of my moving mouth or do you think the kitchen cupboard is just a really convincing ventriloquist?"

"We're not talking! We're screaming and my head hurts and my ears hurt and I'm just tired of screaming so please, just sit down and let us talk! Please!"

"Fine!"

"So sit!"

"A woman who has just digested four cups of coffee does not sit! She does a back flip and then inhabits Lara Croft's body and saves the world from large zombies and…I'm not going to finish that sentence because it's pointless and I'd rather not just scream out pointless things right now! I've wasted too damn much of my life screaming pointless things at people who just sit there and take it anyway! Damnit, Rory!"

"You're screaming again!"

"Well you're not exactly pulling a mime act, are you?"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Rory yelled fiercely.

Lorelai laughed ironically. "What do I want from you? WHAT DO I WANT FROM YOU? You, Rory, in case you've forgotten, are the one who started this all! You're the one who came in here wanting to 'talk' and guess what, honey? YOU'RE NOT TALKING! I'm screaming at you, and you're screaming at me, and you can't just expect me to understand what you want to say! IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY, THEN JUST SAY IT!"

This last sentence echoed around the kitchen for the longest three seconds of their lives…bouncing off of their ears like the most annoying ghostly boxer in history…It sizzled as frustration and built up anger in their bodies until Lorelai could swear she felt a vein popping out of her forehead, above her furrowed eyebrows and set jaw._ So now I look like the evil scientist from "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Charming._

The silence, even more than the comment, affected the girls, for it lingered around them expecting some kind of words, perhaps another yell, another comment, and Rory could tell from the way it lay most heavily on her straightened shoulders that it was her turn to say something, anything, in response to what had just been lay out. She tried to recall what she'd thought last night; she'd written out what would happen in her head, what she would say, how best to calm the enraged mutation of a conflict that she had with her mother right now. It didn't come to her- that planned conversation seemed stupid and all-too unrealistic now that it was playing in her brain. What was needed now was…she didn't know. She closed her eyes and began her search for the right words.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

This 'sorry', unlike the first one, seemed more pointed, and as it was unaccompanied with another phrase, Lorelai had to regard it. She did so warily, with a guarded response although she wanted it to mean that everything was going to be all right again.

"For what?"

"For being…I dunno… I understand why you're angry, I do, It's just that…" her voice wavered and tears bubbled in Rory eyes. She tried her best not to let them show. "I wish I still wanted…what I've always wanted…I wish that…" she carefully wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. Her voice was so soft now that Lorelai almost had to strain to hear it. "I wish that…this…feeling…like I'm not doing it right or well enough would go away…But it won't…I wish I could make it…"

"Rory…" Lorelai whispered, in a partially shocked, partially tender voice. She still felt that the people from Candid Camera were going to jump out of her unused washing machine shouting, 'HA! SHE GOT YOU TO GO SOFT! GOTCHA!" at any moment, but her anger was starting to melt away. It couldn't be the twisted look of desperation that was now on her daughter's face, it couldn't be the way Rory's tears magnified the clear blue of her eyes and glued her dark eyelashes into triangles, or the way this moment reminded Lorelai of every other moment when Rory was hurt and sad and confused and went to _her_, not anyone else…Could it be?

"I just want to know," Rory said, tears now streaming down her face, "If this is really what I want to do, or is it just because it's been what I've wanted to do for so long that- I- I just automatically _do_ it…"

"Rory…"

"I hate fighting with you! I hate it!" She sobbed violently, now, her whole body shaking. She sat down at the table and put her head down.

"I hate it, too," Lorelai said quietly, controlling her voice, or at least making an attempt.

What was she supposed to do? She couldn't hold off the motherly impulse to comfort Rory forever, but there was still that stubborn feeling that spoiled it. And pride. Stupid pride.

She wished Luke were there. She wish she could immediately conjure him up and have him as her 'good angel' on her right shoulder so that he could grudgingly direct her what to do for the rest of her life. That would be nice.

Finally, she sighed, and hurried over to her daughter, rubbing her back. Rory hiccuped. Both of their hair was completely tangled.

"Shhh…" Lorelai whispered, as comfortingly as she could, because she had nothing else to say. "Shhhh."

* * *

Oh, lord. Angst overload. Too much angst?Review, m'dears, review. Tell me what you think even if it won't make me happy. I have other things for that (dirty.)

I feel kind of guilty for the excessively long review i had at first. i hope you bore with it.


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